


Pawns, Bishops, and Castles

by xxxraquelita



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 72,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxraquelita/pseuds/xxxraquelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words were such a simple thing to Blaine Anderson. Of course, that was before he realized that just a few simple sentences could change everything. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full." Eleven words changed the course of his life, eleven words etched on his heart. Change will come as surely as the seasons and twice as fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Blaine Anderson hadn’t expected a lot of things when he first met Kurt Hummel.

 

He hadn’t expected him to sit with him, for one.

 

Blaine spent a lot of time at the Lima Bean when he wasn’t at Dalton. The coffee shop was the perfect place to go to get away for a little bit, and on most afternoons and weekends, he could be found sitting at a table by himself. Usually he had a book to keep him occupied, but really he just enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop and watching the time go by.

 

Dalton was a great school and he loved it there, but he still needed time to himself. That wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to come by at a boarding school, especially when it was summer. Even with the majority of the students gone, he still didn’t have a room to himself, and having some of the Warblers there meant his time was almost always occupied with friends around. Taking summer classes had been his idea, because he wanted to enroll in more advanced classes in the fall and had some catching up to do. It was all going to be worth it, he knew – he just had to get through them.

 

He had amazing friends and couldn’t have asked for much better than the Warblers, but sometimes he just needed to get away. When he’d started there, he’d sought out a place where he could go and stay to himself. That was how he’d found the Lima Bean. He would readily admit that he was a bit of a coffee addict, so it was the perfect place. Never mind that the cute logo had drawn him in, it had turned into a safe haven where he automatically escaped whenever time would allow.

 

There was something almost soothing about the sounds that came from behind the bar – milk steaming, coffee beans grinding, the  _bang-slam_ of grounds being knocked out of the porta-filter as the barista got ready to make the next drink. The constant hum of conversation blended into the background, white noise to Blaine’s ears as he lost himself in the atmosphere of the café.

 

Crowded days were his least favorite. It could get a little hectic: mothers with numerous children and strollers taking up more than their fair share of space, book clubs spread out over multiple tables and having loud conversations about vices of literary characters – though Blaine sometimes did think of joining them one day – and knitting groups containing themselves in the far corner but still managing to add to the craziness simply by adding to the number of people there.

 

It was one of those crowded days when it happened. Blaine had been sitting and listening to the book club, considering his own viewpoints on  _Jane Eyre_ , when he’d glanced over toward the counter and seen him. Blaine was fairly big on people watching, though a lot of the time it was done absently and without realizing he was doing it, but he definitely noticed that time.

 

The boy standing at the counter, arms folded across his chest and foot tapping somewhat impatiently on the floor, was someone worth noticing. Blaine could see his profile, the sharp angles of his face and the way his hair swept up away from his forehead. He was dressed impeccably, each little detail perfectly in place, and as he stepped up to order, Blaine caught himself staring at the way his mouth moved as it formed words. He was beautiful, but staring was rude no matter how attractive the person was – did it make it more rude when they were exceptionally attractive? – so Blaine opened his book again and stared down at the page.

 

“Excuse me.” His attempted concentration on the words in front of him was broken by a soft, lilting voice from above, and he glanced up before quickly looking back to his book under the pretense of marking his place. Really, it was to prepare himself for the fact that when he looked up again, he’d be looking right at the person he’d been nearly leering at minutes prior. He schooled his expression into what he hoped was nonchalance, set his book down, and raised his gaze again. Any impassiveness he’d managed to obtain was completely ruined by his immediate quest to figure out exactly  _what_ color the boy’s eyes were.

 

“Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full,” the boy said, gesturing around with his free hand and indicating the mass of people swarming around the café.

 

“Oh, sure!” Blaine replied, moving to clear off the table. It wasn’t like he’d made a mess, there wasn’t even much on it, but he felt like he should make room for him. “Yeah, it’s a little crazy in here today.” He paused, watching as the boy slid into the opposite seat, and he held his hand out across the table. “I’m Blaine.”

 

The boy glanced at Blaine’s hand, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile, and then slipped his own hand into it. “Kurt.”

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to talk to him.

 

They exchanged pleasantries, as strangers might when they were suddenly put into each other’s presence, but Blaine hadn’t thought it would get much further than that. Kurt had pulled a book out of his messenger bag soon after sitting down, and Blaine figured they were both going to sit there and read and maybe exchange an awkward goodbye once one of them was done and decided to leave. What else should he have expected?

 

Although they didn’t sit there for hours discussing current events, they definitely had conversation enough to feel comfortable. Kurt seemed interested in Dalton – Blaine hadn’t even bothered to change out of his uniform before going to the Lima Bean that day, so it was an easy thing to pick out – and Blaine was more than happy to talk about it. It was easy to talk about the place where he spent the vast majority of his time, after all.

 

Kurt kept his answers simple and brief, at least to the somewhat personal questions that Blaine asked. He wasn’t trying to be pushy, just trying to get to know him, though he found it hard to keep from asking for his complete life story when he was sitting there looking into those eyes that kept sparkling every time Kurt smiled. He was mostly trying to get him to talk more, because Kurt’s voice sounded as incredible as the rest of him appeared. Blaine’s coffee cup had been empty for a while, but he hadn’t found a reason to leave.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to give him his number.

 

It was written on a napkin and slid across the tabletop as Blaine finally gathered his things to go. He hadn’t realized it was happening at first, too busy trying to fit his book back into his bag (it had somehow become a complete mess in the time since he’d gotten there) to notice it. He’d even thought that maybe Kurt was pushing the napkin toward him because he’d left it accidentally and should throw it away, because why on earth would be expect Kurt to throw away his trash for him?

 

Except then he’d grabbed it and thankfully seen the digits written across it before he would have balled it up in his fist. Kurt was smiling almost shyly at him when he looked across the table, and Blaine plucked the pen out of his hand to tear off a piece of the napkin and write down his own number before getting up to leave.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to text him – especially not as often as he did.

 

The occasional greeting or random whim was one thing, but Kurt was a texting maniac. It was as though any thought that popped into his head was immediately put through his cell phone and sent directly to Blaine. Not that Blaine minded this in the least bit; it just made him wonder if Kurt had anyone else to talk to – though he immediately felt horrible for that thought, because of course Kurt had other people to talk to. Early on into their texting-friendship, Kurt had told Blaine that giving him his number had been a complete impulse, but it had felt right at the time so he’d gone for it. Blaine couldn’t agree more, because he couldn’t remember how he spent his time between classes before he’d had Kurt’s number. Texting him was second nature almost immediately.

 

It hadn’t taken long at all for the texts to turn overtly flirty. Who started it? Blaine couldn’t recall. Either one of them easily could have, it would have been an easy progression.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to turn up at Dalton one afternoon to see him.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to kiss him.

 

He hadn’t expected to have Kurt in his room and be doing a lot more than just kissing.

 

That’s what happened, though. Once, and then with added frequency. It wasn’t scheduled, planned, wasn’t a defined thing, it was just  _some_ thing that Blaine couldn’t quite put his finger on. That was what was nice about Dalton – no parents to get in the way and notice when people were being sneaked up to rooms. His roommate Wes was good about not asking questions, not saying anything about whatever he was doing with Kurt. All Blaine had to do was say “I think Kurt’s coming over…” and the room was his.

 

It helped that it didn’t happen very often, he thought, because then Wes might actually be bothered by it. Honestly he was shocked that he hadn’t been given a light lecture on the rules and policies regarding visitors to the dormitories, because if there was anyone who abided by the rules it was Wes. Kurt seemed to have a busy summer schedule, and it wasn’t as if Blaine didn’t have classes and homework to focus on, but every so often Kurt would be there.

 

It wasn’t something he ever would have expected, and definitely not so fast, but everything with Kurt just felt right. They spent so much time talking that it felt like they’d known each other for years, not just weeks, and every little step further felt natural. It felt that way the first time they’d kissed, as well as the first time they’d lay on Blaine’s bed for a long, luxurious make out session with tentative hands brushing along each other’s bodies. And then later, when clothes started to come off and they both admitted this wasn’t something they’d never done before – that felt completely right, too.

 

He knew he’d never forget that first time, that first night, when he was laying there completely exposed, a light sweat covering his skin, with Kurt clutched against him. His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest, and it was loud in his ears as he stared down at Kurt and he knew, knew without saying, that everything was right. It was in how Kurt looked at him, so trusting and earnest – and Blaine would want to add lovingly but he thought maybe that was him projecting. His name never sounded nearly as sweet as when it came from Kurt’s lips, and he’d heard it so many times that night.

 

They’d stayed close afterward, stretched out on Blaine’s bed with legs intertwined and fingertips tracing along bare skin. It was the kind of moment that Blaine wanted to live in forever. He’d never thought that meeting a boy in a coffee shop would have turned into something more so easily, so quickly, but nothing about it felt wrong. Kurt had said something along the same lines, so he knew he wasn’t the only one, and that just made it even better. They’d shared that with each other, given that to each other, through strokes of hands and hips rocking together, and Blaine couldn’t really help but be in awe of it all.

 

Blaine hadn’t expected himself to be completely fine with semi-secret rendezvous.

 

He wasn’t one who could even fathom a one night stand in theory. Hell, he wasn’t even normally one for the casual makeout between friends. He was raised well, taught to be a gentleman. That was the Anderson way, after all. He was a romantic, deep down, and yearned for that connection that would make him want to serenade someone in the middle of a crowded restaurant, park, city square, anywhere.

 

That was exactly what was happening with Kurt, though. It felt like a summer fling – no strings, no discussion of what the future held between them, just those moments and times together. Despite what Blaine felt about Kurt, felt about  _them_ , that’s what it was. It wasn’t just about physicality; it was never just about that. Sometimes they would just lie there and talk until Kurt’s phone would go off and he would have to leave. Their friendship started because of them talking and it was still the biggest staple between them. There were no commitments, no definitions, it was just what they had in that moment and left at that. Blaine assumed it was because an actual relationship would have been difficult, considering their conflicting schedules and lives.

 

Blaine hadn’t expected his dad to lose his job.

 

He never would have thought it could happen – not to his father who had worked at the law firm for as long as Blaine could remember. There was only so much Blaine was told, the rest kept in hushed tones away from his ears. Boarding at Dalton meant that he’d missed any indication that there were problems, and he didn’t hear about it until everything was done.

 

The prospect of going back to public school gave Blaine a slight feeling of anxiety. The whole reason he’d changed to a private school was to feel safe, secure, not like he was going to be hurt just for being himself. That was what had happened at his previous school, after all. His time at Dalton had helped him get over the Sadie Hawkins incident and had given him confidence, not to mention a start in on a hobby of boxing, so he didn’t feel as much dread about the potential of being attacked as he would have thought had he been asked about it a year or so prior.

 

It did hit him with an overwhelming feeling of sadness when summer classes ended and he had to pack up all his belongings. Wes and the rest of the Warblers were right there by his side, helping him carry everything out of the dormitory and pack it into the car. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t see each other again, because Blaine very much planned on visiting as much as possible, but it was different knowing that they weren’t going to see each other every day like they were used to.

 

The only thing keeping him going was that he would be attending William McKinley High – Kurt’s school.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to be dating someone when he got there.


	2. Chapter One

Blaine had gone through a brief tour of the school before it started, on the day when freshmen usually got to take a walk around and get themselves acclimated with the new building. It had been a little strange, even though he wasn’t _that_ much older than them, but he’d figured it was either do that or be completely turned around on his first day of actually being in school. That still happened, but it wasn’t because of not knowing his way through the halls. It was more of who was in them.

 

His Dalton blazer hung in his closet, a memory, and it felt strange to get dressed for school and not put it on. He had a bow tie that was striped in Dalton colors, and that was his choice to wear for the day. Going completely casual and informal wasn’t who he was, and he had a feeling that no matter what he was going to stick out a little at McKinley, so the slight reminder of Dalton was what he was counting on to get him through his first day.

 

He thought, as he walked to his locker before first period, that maybe he should have texted or called Kurt to let him know he was transferring there. He’d considered it, when he’d found out, but then he thought it might be a nice surprise. After all, he didn’t want Kurt thinking that he was transferring there for _him,_ because that wasn’t true in the least. They’d been together just before Blaine found out about his transfer, sprawled out on his bed and talking for hours, but other than brief, inconsequential texts back and forth he hadn’t spoken to Kurt since. With everything that had been going on, he hadn’t had the time.

 

Mostly he just kept thinking about the way Kurt’s eyes would light up, the way he’d seen them do so many times when they were together. He really wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over Kurt’s smile, his laugh, the way he would tilt his head and look at him when Blaine had said something offhand or slightly more dorky than usual. The thought of maybe getting to see all those things on a daily basis was enough to make him not be too sad about being at McKinley instead of Dalton. Things could have been worse.

 

Classes seemed like they were going to be easier than at Dalton, though maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been in classes all summer with the thought of preparing himself for more difficult courses. Plus it was just the first day, he kept reminding himself, so who knew what they would be like as the weeks went on. Either way, and he was trying to keep modest about it, he felt like he was going to be just fine. He’d always done well with academics, so he wasn’t worried.

 

It was lunchtime when it happened. He’d been headed for his locker when he heard Kurt’s voice. It wasn’t like he was hard to pick out from the crowd, the way his voice just seemed to float above the rest. Blaine turned, eyes skimming the hallway, and then he just stopped.

 

Kurt had always looked so put together, even when he’d just been coming to Dalton to sneak into Blaine’s room and get out of his carefully picked clothes for a while. He’d always had a style and way about him that Blaine had envied, though he knew he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off if he tried. He had his own style, one he was comfortable with, when he wasn’t in his Dalton uniform. Then again, he wasn’t going to be in his Dalton uniform again, so that was all he had to go on.

 

But there was Kurt, wearing jeans (and not the skintight jeans Blaine had seen on him a few times) and a McKinley football t-shirt, hair decidedly not swooped up in its normal coif. He looked so much like every other person walking through the halls of the school, not his usual, unique, always at least slightly fancy Kurt self that Blaine was used to seeing. What was more was that there was a blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform hanging on his arm, whispering in – no, more like _nibbling on –_ his ear.

 

Blaine nearly dropped his books, and he was sure his mouth was slightly agape. It was _Kurt_ but it wasn’t. Maybe he had a twin that he’d never mentioned, because that would explain it all. The clothes, the _girl_ who was all but clinging to his arm and nuzzling against him, all of it. He felt like he couldn’t move, he could only stand and stare and try to find something that could prove his twin theory true.

 

He hadn’t expected Kurt to look at him like that the first time he saw him at McKinley.

 

It wasn’t the sparkly-eyed, smiling, happy look that Blaine had been expecting at all. Blaine couldn’t say that it was the exact opposite, because Kurt didn’t appear mad or anything like that. He looked terrified, just for a split second, and then he managed to dial it back to something that was closer to concerned. If nothing else he looked beyond startled, but Blaine could see the slight fear lingering there in his eyes.

 

Kurt hesitated, pulling his arm from the girl and linking their hands together – it looked like he was holding on to her so tightly – before crossing the hallway to Blaine. He looked like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant, and Blaine took a half step back as he drew closer. It wasn’t at all what he’d imagined it was going to be like.

 

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asked in a low whisper, and Blaine tried his best to remember how words worked. It was difficult to do when it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured on his head. 

 

“I… go here, now,” he stammered out, glancing between Kurt and the girl, who seemed to be completely oblivious to any tension between them at all, and then back again. Kurt’s gaze was flitting around, looking everywhere but directly at Blaine.

 

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he said, and their eyes met briefly as he gave Blaine a pointed look. “Later.”

 

He turned on his heel and headed down the hall in the opposite direction, cheerleader in tow and practically skipping along beside him. Blaine thought he heard her ask if they could get milkshakes for lunch, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

 

Blaine blinked a few times as he watched them disappear around the corner, and then made his way the few more feet to his locker, fumbling with the combination and messing it up twice before getting it open. It didn’t help that someone was talking really loudly, messing with his concentration. How was he supposed to be able to focus on getting the right numbers when there was someone naming off different races from _Lord of the Rings_?

 

“Hey Lollipop Guild!” Someone shoved hard at his arm and he stumbled a step to the side before looking over, wide eyed, at an annoyed looking Latina girl – who was wearing the same cheerleading uniform as the girl who had been with Kurt. Great. “I was talking to you.”

 

“What?” he asked, carefully putting his books in his locker and grabbing out the lunch he’d packed that morning. “Why…. Lollipop Guild?”

 

“You’re a munchkin,” she offered with an unapologetic shrug. “You didn’t respond to hobbit or gay dwarf, so I had to keep guessing.” He stared at her, and she plucked his lunch bag out of his hands and looked down into it. “Good _Lord_ , I didn’t think you were actually serious when you grabbed a _literal_ brown bag to head to lunch. What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“That’s _mine_ ,” he said, snatching the bag back and slamming the door to his locker shut. He felt completely off kilter already and she was doing nothing to help. Actually, she was just making everything worse. “Leave me alone, please.”

 

“No can do, Frodo.” She grabbed the bag from him again and chucked it into a nearby trash can.

 

“Hey, that was my lunch!” He looked over at her incredulously, but she was just smoothing down the skirt of her uniform as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. This, he thought, was why he hated public schools. Nothing like that would have happened at Dalton. Ever.

 

“Was it? Oops. Guess you’ll just have to come have lunch with me,” she said, a smirk twisting at the corners of her mouth. Blaine just stared. “Believe me, sad little gay with the big puppy eyes, you’re going to want to have lunch with me.”

 

“Who… _are_ you?”

 

“Santana Lopez.” She leaned in, her mouth dangerously close to his ear as she whispered. “I’m your new best friend.”

 

“I kind of doubt that,” he said, leaning away and rubbing at his ear – her breath had tickled.  “I’ve had some pretty awesome best friends and none of them started our friendship by assaulting me and then throwing away my lunch.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve had some boring friends, then,” Santana replied, slipping her arm through his and starting down the hall. Blaine wasn’t sure if he had much of a choice by that point, considering the grip she had on him. He wondered if it was just something in the water at this school that made cheerleaders gravitate to gay boys – but at least Santana seemed to realize what she was getting into. Who knew about the blonde one. Who knew about _Kurt_ , apparently.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, following her out into the parking lot and managing to wrench his arm away. She looked over at him, rolling her eyes.

 

“Lunch, like I said,” she replied, speaking slowly, as if he was going to have trouble understanding. She pulled her keys out of her bag and hit a button on the remote, unlocking a nearby car. “I figure you missed second breakfast, being stuck in class, so you must be _famished_ by now…”

 

“I am not a hobbit,” Blaine said, rubbing his forehead and trying to find some amount of patience to deal with her. He was still reeling from seeing Kurt, and she wasn’t helping.

 

“Fine, whatever, get in the car.”

 

“I don’t even _know_ you.”

 

Santana stopped, turning to face him and resting her hands on her hips. He almost took a step back. There was something different, though he couldn’t really figure out what it was. She still looked annoyed, still looked like she might drag him off if he didn’t move of his own accord quickly, but there was something different. Something that made her decidedly less threatening. Something about her eyes.

 

“Just get in the car.”

 

Blaine hesitated, glancing around the parking lot for a moment before following her to the car and sliding into the passenger seat. He barely had a chance to buckle the seat belt before Santana was revving the engine and tearing out of the parking lot and down the street. There was music blasting from the speakers at an almost deafening volume, and she waited until they were at a red light to reach over and turn it down. “Wendy’s okay with you?”

 

“What?”

 

“For food, Frodo. There are limited options close to the school. Wendy’s?”

 

“Oh sure, that’s fine,” Blaine said, looking over at her and watching for a few seconds before speaking again. “My name’s Blaine, by the way.”

 

“Mhm.” Santana zipped through some side streets to get to the restaurant, pulling into the drive-through line and tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “What do you want?”

 

“A… spicy chicken sandwich?” Blaine squinted out at the menu, then nodded. “And fries.” Santana pulled up to the speaker box and ordered for them both, swatting at his hand when he tried to hand her money to pay for his half. “What?”

 

“I threw your painfully adorable lunch away,” she said, rolling her eyes and grabbing money out of her purse and holding it out the window as she looked at him. “I’ve got it.”

 

By the time they got back to the school with their food, Blaine had no idea what to think of her. She was rude, outspoken, offensive, and yet somehow… nice? He really didn’t know. She also wouldn’t let him get out of the car after she parked. “Santana? Why are we eating in your car?”

 

“Because you and me are going to have a conversation that can’t happen out there,” she said, giving him a look and taking a bite of her sandwich. His brow furrowed and he focused on not dropping his fries in her car as he ate them. “Oh come on, you _already_ look like I kicked your dog or something. Jesus, Blaine.”

 

“Well, what is it?” he asked. It hadn’t escaped him that she’d actually used his real name for once.

 

“You and your obvious boy crush on Hummel.”

 

“O-oh, that’s… not what you think,” he started, but he wasn’t sure what it actually was. Because everything seemed to be turned a little upside down.

 

“No, it’s not what _you_ think,” Santana corrected, licking ketchup off her finger in a highly inappropriate way. “His girlfriend—”

 

“He has a girlfriend,” Blaine interrupted flatly, needing to say the words out loud. “Look, I don’t know what you thought this was going to accomplish, but he has a girlfriend and is obviously not the person I thought he was.”

 

“Oooh, so you knew him already?” Santana asked, sitting up a little more. “I just thought your gaydar went off, despite his butching it up.”

 

“I knew him already,” he said carefully, not wanting to give any details as to how. “Obviously not as well as I thought, considering…”

 

“There are two sides to every story.”

 

Blaine didn’t get a chance to ask her to elaborate – because clearly she knew more than he did, though that wouldn’t take much – because it was almost time for the bell to ring and class to start, and they were still sitting out in the parking lot. He wasn’t about to be late to class on his first day there, or any other day for that matter. Thankfully, Santana had the same idea, and they made their way back to the building, parting ways in the hall.

 

Focusing in classes was impossible, because all Blaine could think about was what Santana had said. There were two sides to every story, sure, but what the hell was either side of the story for what was going on? By the time the final bell rang, he felt like he’d done nothing but run through impossible scenario after impossible scenario in his head and he didn’t have any better understanding of what could possibly be going on.

 

He kept thinking about Kurt, how he’d said _later_. They would talk later. Well, how late was later and what exactly were they going to talk about?

 

Blaine wanted to box, wanted to let all of his emotions and confusions out through his fists and against the punching bag, but he didn’t have one at home. He’d picked up boxing when he’d been at Dalton, so there had been no reason for him to get a bag to have at his parents’ house. It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he realized there was one in the locker room at the school.

 

His phone rang after dinner, when he was up in his room. He knew it was Kurt even before he’d glanced at the name on the screen, and he seriously considered not answering. But he did, because it would have been rude not to and he _did_ want to know what the hell was going on. Except the second he picked up the phone he knew he didn’t want to find out like that. “Hello?”

 

“Blaine, hi. Listen—”

 

“No,” Blaine interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb and sighing. “Kurt, it’s been… it’s been a really long day, and I can’t do this over the phone. So either this conversation isn’t going to happen right now, or we’re going to meet somewhere.”

 

“I—can’t go anywhere right now,” Kurt said after a long pause. “This would be so much easier if you were still at Dalton.”

 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ it would be.” Blaine couldn’t quite keep the bite out of his voice, despite how hard he tried.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kurt cut in quickly. “I just meant, I could come and see you. Easier. At Dalton.”

 

“Right,” Blaine said, frowning. It seemed like they were really going to talk about it anyway. “I just have one question.” That was a lie, he had _so many_ questions. “And I want you to answer it honestly.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“How long have you been with Brittany?” He’d learned her name from a class they had together, and he had been annoyed to find out that she was actually really sweet and nice. He couldn’t find anything tangible to dislike about her. Why that was the question that came out, despite all the others stuck in his head, he had no idea. It was bothering him , all of it was, but he’d just seen Kurt not even two weeks prior and the turn-around to Brittany in that brief of a time seemed unreal.

 

“Oh.” Kurt sounded caught off guard, but Blaine didn’t care, considering how thrown he’d been all day. “I… a while.”

 

“How long is _a while,_ Kurt?”

 

“Since June. Blaine, it’s not what you–”

 

Blaine didn’t hear the rest of what Kurt was saying because he hung up and threw his phone over onto his bed. His heart felt like it dropped into his stomach. June. He’d met Kurt in June. The entire time they’d known each other, been together, he’d been with Brittany. He couldn’t even start to wrap his head around what any of it meant.

 

His boxing stuff found its way into his book bag before he went to bed.


	3. Chapter Two

Going to school made Blaine feel like he was walking into a bad situation, because at some point he was going to have to see Kurt, probably with Brittany, and he didn’t want to deal with it. Part of him felt like he should say something, apologize – to Brittany, not Kurt – because he’d been the other person, after all. She was the one who’d been cheated on. Never mind the complete confusion of Kurt choosing  _him_ of all people to cheat with.

 

Santana was waiting at his locker when he got there, and he really wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with her and whatever she was going to throw at him.

 

“Morning, Gimli,” she said with a yawn, and he thought maybe if she was tired that would make it easier. Because tired meant less attempts at being funny or cryptic, right? Except she’d already made a dwarf joke, so probably not.

 

“Good morning, Santana,” he replied, spinning the combination and opening his locker.

 

“So you don’t sing, by chance,” she asked, a little too nonchalantly for it to be innocent. He looked over at her, eyes narrowed. “What?”

 

“I feel like you already know the answer to that question.”

 

“It’s not my fault you’re all over youtube, Blaine Warbler,” she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Anyway, you should audition for glee club with me. They’re a bunch of nut jobs, but it could be fun.”

 

“Santana, what is this?” He gestured between them, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I told you, I’m your new best friend.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if they weren’t just one day past complete strangers. He thought about his actual best friend, Wes, and how he wanted to call him and get his advice about _what the hell was going on,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. Besides, he didn’t even know where to start. “Come on. Glee club. You won’t regret it.”

 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Blaine groaned, hanging his head and sighing. He wasn’t sure if he’d said it in reference to her being his best friend or whether or not he’d regret glee club. The thing was, he’d loved being a Warbler. Singing, dancing, performing -  he loved it all. He hadn’t even thought about whether or not McKinley had a glee club – he’d been too stuck on Kurt. “I don’t know. When are auditions?”

 

“Today at lunch, and don’t try to tell me you don’t have anything to sing because I’m pretty sure you can bust out any of those diddies that you and the Gargler boys used to do.”

 

“Warblers,” he corrected, hand moving up to adjust his bowtie. It was the Dalton-themed one again. He needed the slight comfort of the colors, needed something to feel normal when it felt like the whole world had started turning the wrong way. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

 

“Bullshit, you know you want to.” Blaine looked over at her, his brow furrowing. In the midst of everything else, it didn’t feel that strange for her to be there, trying to be his friend. At least it was nice that  _someone_ was. Why it was the one person at the school who seemed to want to push all his buttons, he had no idea. “Come on, Blaine.”

 

“Alright, fine. What are you singing?”

 

“Love is a Losing Game,” Santana said, hooking her thumbs in the shoulder straps of her backpack and shrugging. “Amy Winehouse’s music is like, made for me to sing.”

 

“I’ll try and figure something out before lunch.”

 

At least he had something new to fixate on during classes. Every bit of thinking that probably would have been taken up by Kurt and Brittany turned into lyrics, songs, possibilities for his audition. Santana had been right; he could easily do almost anything that the Warblers had performed the year prior. It was just a matter of choosing something.

 

Lunchtime rolled around too quickly, way before he managed to pin himself down to one choice. That was what happened when he was given no warning and only a few hours to think about an audition. He’d thought about sending a massive group text to the Warblers to ask their advice, but he’d stopped himself. It felt weird to think about singing in a group that wasn’t with them, and it would have been awkward to ask. At least, he thought it would be.

 

Santana was waiting by his locker again, and he was starting to wonder if she actually had classes or she just hung around in the halls all day. Another good question was who she spent her time annoying before he’d gotten there. Those questions didn’t take up much of his time, all things considered. There were much more important questions out there. The Kurt questions, but more important at that moment were the audition questions – because they were distracting him from everything else.

 

“Should I have signed up somewhere?” he asked as he put his books away. “I feel like I missed a few steps.”

 

“Oh believe me, it’s nowhere near as put together as that,” Santana said, pushing off from where she’d been leaning and starting down the hall with him. “It’s pretty much the least organized group ever, or at least that’s what it seemed like from watching them crash and burn all over the place last year.”

 

The Warblers had been the  _most_  organized group ever, and that was saying something considering they didn’t have a faculty advisor. Maybe being student-run had helped them, because they knew if they slacked off or messed up that then the faculty would start paying attention and mandate that they be supervised. The council had been a little old-fashioned perhaps, but so were boarding schools. It had fit with Dalton. Of course, it helped that Wes had been heading up the council and if anyone was going to keep them on track, it was him. Add in a dash of tradition and a whole lot of pride, and they’d run a tight ship all on their own.

 

Maybe that was why it was an extra shock when they crossed the threshold into the choir room and he was faced with the most ragtag group of students ever. It was chaos: everyone talking, singing, most ignoring each other and focusing on themselves, the occasional two people whispering and glancing around. There weren’t a lot of people there, but enough to fill the room with frantic energy as auditions loomed ahead.

 

“Well this is—” Blaine started, but then he saw him. Of course Kurt was there. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it, considering how many conversations they’d had over the summer about music and performing. Maybe because Kurt seemed like a completely different person than the Kurt he knew. It would be too easy for Blaine to be able to do something he’d enjoyed in the past without Kurt being  _right there_ , headphones in, eyes closed, and lips moving silently, Brittany sitting right beside him. He was starting to think that he hated Santana. “No.”

 

“Oh come on, don’t be an idiot,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. They found two chairs together, and as soon as they sat down she pulled out a nail file and examined her fingernails.

 

Blaine wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting as far as auditions went, considering Santana’s description of the group as unorganized. He was used to the solo performance in front of the council and that was it, but it only took a few seconds for him to realize that it was  _entirely_ different there. “Audition” was a loose term being used for all the students there getting up one by one and singing in front of everyone. Mr. Schuester, the teacher, didn’t even take any notes on performances or anything; he just made a comment after every song about what a great job they did.

 

Clearly anyone who auditioned was going to get in, so long as they weren’t completely tone deaf.

 

Santana was good, though Blaine had no idea what he’d been expecting. She definitely had the low and sultry style that suited her music choice, and just watching her sing made him feel like he was getting to see her for who she really was. There was something so much softer about her when she was singing – none of the dry tone she normally used or the hardened looks she gave out at every chance. It was refreshing to see her like that, almost like how she’d been for a few seconds the day prior when they’d been in her car.

 

Brittany was okay, he granted, despite how much he’d wanted her to be horrible. She was bubbly and upbeat, and so was her song, and she danced around a lot more than anyone else had. Blaine hazarded a look up toward where Kurt was sitting, but Kurt wasn’t watching her – he was watching Blaine. They both looked away quickly when their eyes met, and Blaine glanced over at Santana. She wasn’t much help, considering that she was just watching Brittany with a slight look of awe. She really wasn’t being helpful at all.

 

Everyone was a blur after Brittany – a small girl who was  _very_ enthusiastic, a few football players, some other cheerleader, a girl named Mercedes who had actually drawn a bit of Blaine’s attention because  _wow_  her voice. Santana scrawled a note and set it on his lap, pointing out the people who had been in it the previous year, a list of names and one word descriptors that weren’t really that helpful considering they were mostly her opinions about them. But then there was Kurt. He nimbly made his way down from the top row of chairs and ran his hands through his hair - a gesture that made Blaine’s jaw clench because he’d done that to Kurt so many times and his fingers twitched from the sense memory - before nodding to the man sitting behind the piano.

 

Blaine could almost forget that he was mad – maybe not mad, but he was definitely not feeling good things toward him – at Kurt when he was singing. "Blackbird" was such a simple song, but Kurt’s voice was so pure and gorgeous, and Blaine felt like it was melting all the stiffness off him. He glanced up at him, but Kurt wasn’t looking at him. That was going to take a lot of getting used to, considering how much Kurt had  _always_ looked at him until the previous day.

 

He couldn’t stop looking at  _him,_ though, because there in that moment was the Kurt that he knew. The Kurt who had laid in bed with him at Dalton for hours, talking about performing and how it was his one real dream in life. He’d never sung for Blaine, but then again Blaine had never sung for him. It was just a conversation topic, how they both sang and loved being on the stage, that rush that came from singing for an audience. That Kurt was the one who was there, singing for them.

 

There was a brief smattering of applause when he was done, just like there’d been for everyone, and Blaine waited for Kurt to start back to his seat before he got up. He crossed to the piano and reached down to press a key to get his starting pitch, giving the affronted pianist an apologetic look before turning to face everyone. “Hi, I’m Blaine. The group at my old school was all a cappella, so I hope it’s okay if I sing without any accompaniment.”

 

Maybe he should have changed his song choice after he saw Kurt there in the room, but he’d already decided and that was that. "Teenage Dream" had been his first solo with the Warblers and it held a special place in his heart, and by that point it was probably the song he was best at. He looked at Kurt when he got to the chorus, just barely but long enough to see that he was staring at him, an unreadable look on his face.

 

Santana, on the other hand, was smirking and giving him two thumbs up. That made him smile, and he let himself have fun with the rest of the song. It wasn’t like he could really control his performer tendencies once he started because it was so much more fun to sing  _to_ someone as opposed to just sing, even if it was just an audition. He dedicated words, lines, to nearly everyone in the room in turn, except Brittany and Kurt. Maybe he should have just stuck with Santana, because she looked highly amused by it all and because he actually  _knew_ her, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“Thanks, Blaine,” Mr. Schuester said as Blaine made his way back to his seat. “We’re certainly glad to have you here, and I bet your last school was sad to see you go with talent like that.”

 

“Thanks,” he said with a nod, trying not to think about how the Warblers would have reacted to the glee club situation at McKinley. It would have been entertaining to watch Wes take it in, particularly. He sat quietly and listened to the rest of the auditions, which there weren’t many more of, before they were declared done.

 

Blaine planned on making a quick exit, not just to avoid the situation but also because he was hungry, but he barely got out of his seat before there were arms hugging him from behind. He froze, glancing down at the slender, pale,  _unfamiliar_ arms around his waist, before turning his head and coming face to face with Brittany as she hooked her chin over his shoulder.

 

“Hi!” she said cheerfully, letting go and moving to his side. “You were super good.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, absently smoothing down his shirt from how it’d gotten rucked up from her squeezing him. As if he needed to be more confused, of course she was being nice to him. “So were you.”

 

“I know.” He blinked, staring at her for a moment. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, but there was no ego inflected in those two simple words. “I’m glad you’re here and not a bird anymore!”

 

“Not a—”

 

“Warbler,” Kurt cut in.

 

“Right,” Blaine said, looking over at him and biting the inside of his lip. “Well, I’m going to go eat in the few minutes we have left…” He figured that was as good an excuse to leave as any, and he offered them a hint of a smile before escaping from the room and getting to his locker to at least grab his sandwich while he had the chance.

 

He knew he was headed to the locker room after his last class, but he’d pretty much known that before the day started. The entire football team was there right after the bell rang, or at least that’s what it sounded like. He hadn’t bothered going in with all the noise – he needed quiet.

 

Once it sounded like there wasn’t anyone left, he ducked inside and made his way over to the punching bag. He dropped his things to the floor and quickly changed into his gym clothes, taking time and care to wrap his hands before standing and running his fingers over the canvas of the bag. It was rough, worn in places, but still firm and sturdy beneath his touch.

 

He tucked his earbuds in, his iPod shuffle clipped to the back of his shirt to keep it out of his way. His eyes closed for a few seconds as the music started, loud and distracting and everything he needed, and then he opened them and landed his first punch.

 

It was steady, rhythmic, the way his fists hit against the bag – the jabs and crosses landing with dull sounds that he couldn’t hear but he knew were there. It felt good to have something to do, to have something to try and distract him from everything that was going on. Except it didn’t work, and he found himself thinking even more.

 

Kurt had a girlfriend.  _Jab._ Kurt had been dating her the entire time they’d been messing around.  _Hook, uppercut._ The one time in his life Blaine had done something he’d never expected to do, and look what happened.  _Jab, cross_. And now he was stuck because he was going to school where he had to see Kurt all the time, in all his not-like-his-Kurt glory.  _Jab, cross, hook._ Because his Kurt, and Blaine felt like he had been his despite the lack of definition, was not at all like the Kurt at McKinley.  _Hook, upperc—_

 

Movement out of the corner of his eye startled him and he jerked back from the bag, looking over as he pulled his headphones out of his ears. He’d opened his mouth to start to apologize, not sure why but he did feel slightly like he was trespassing considering he’d barely started going to school there. Was he even allowed to be there after hours? Except the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth because it was Kurt – wearing a football uniform and standing right there, Kurt.

 

“So you play football, too?” he said, almost accusatory. He didn’t know why he was surprised.

 

“I’m the kicker,” Kurt offered, rocking back on his heels like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

 

“Good for you.”

 

“Blaine, I—”

 

“Was I just some kind of experiment for you?” he snapped, adrenaline still coursing through him. It was the question that had been dancing around in his head ever since their phone call the night before. “Some wacky summer trial to see what being with a guy was like before going back to school and your girlfriend  and forgetting about me and whatever  _this"_  - he gestured between them - "was?"

 

“No! Blaine, stop—”

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Blaine said, punching the bag hard once more before starting to rip the wrapping off his hands. “I thought we were  _friends_ , Kurt. If nothing else, ignoring everything else, I thought we were friends. Despite what you might think, I didn’t come here to mess with your life. As much as I’d love to go back to Dalton, I’m stuck here, so  _sorry_ for how inconvenient that must be for you.”

 

“Blaine, I can’t talk about this here,” Kurt broke in, his gaze flitting around the locker room, between all the doors, before he looked back at Blaine.

 

“Right.” Blaine spit the word out, and he leaned down to grab his clothes off the floor and shoved them in his bag. He didn’t want to hang around to change when he was just going to shower when he got home. “Well, whenever you decide you’re not too ashamed to talk to me,  _please_ let me know.”

 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he left the locker room and went straight out to the parking lot. His heart was still pounding fast, but he was trying to blame that on the workout and not Kurt. It was both.

 

He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have let Kurt get to him that much, and definitely shouldn’t have practically yelled at him. It was just that he was so frustrated. He’d meant what he said – barring everything else, he’d expected to have a friend when he went to McKinley. If Kurt didn’t want to be with him in any other way, fine, but they’d been  _friends_. He knew more about Kurt and his hopes and aspirations, his family, than he did about some of his friends back at Dalton. Apparently he didn’t know him as well as he’d thought.

 

It was a wonder he didn’t run out of hot water, considering how long he stood in the shower once he got home. The rhythmic pulse of the water against his back was normally something that soothed him, but not then. It was just background noise to his thoughts – which were loud as hell. By the time he got out, got dried and dressed and slightly less full of harried thoughts, he thought he could actually focus on his homework to distract himself. It was unfortunate that as soon as he’d started – gotten through math and started in on history – his mom was calling him down to dinner.

 

He still wasn’t used to eating with his parents every night again.  Of course they’d had dinner together when he was at Dalton, but it had been more of a once a week or even bi-weekly occurrence, depending on how busy his dad had been at the time. He wasn’t complaining, because it was nice to sit down with his parents and eat what his mom had made – because she really was an amazing cook – but it was weird to be doing after Dalton.

 

Conversations during dinner that night were brief, mostly because he didn’t feel like talking. His parents were constantly prodding him to see how McKinley was – his classes, the students, everything – but all he could focus on was Kurt. He mentioned the glee club, how he’d auditioned and joined it, but that was the most detail he gave about anything. It was easy to shift the focus off his education and to his dad, considering how he was interviewing for jobs for the first time since he’d graduated from law school all those years ago. Blaine had been about to excuse himself when there was a knock at the door, and they all glanced around the table at each other questioningly.

 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” his dad offered, and Blaine shook his head when they looked at him.

 

“I’ll go see who it is,” his mom said, rising from the table and making her way out to the front door. “Blaine!”

 

“What?” he answered automatically, before realizing that she probably meant for him to come to the door. His brow furrowed as he made his way to where she was, and he did his best to keep his expression neutral when he saw Kurt standing there.

“I didn’t know you were having a friend over,” she said, and Blaine clenched his jaw.

 

“Neither did I,” he said, giving his head a small shake.

 

“You asked me to  _please_ let you know,” Kurt offered, his arms folding across his stomach. Blaine wasn’t sure if his mom was aware of the tension or not, but she looked between the two of them a few times before clearing her throat.

 

“Well, you boys let me know if you need anything. We just had dinner, Kurt, but if you were hungry I’m sure I could find something.”

 

“I’m fine, thank you Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said, giving her a smile, but it quickly faded as soon as she left.

 

“For someone who barely even talks to me, it’s kind of creepy how you managed to find my house without me ever telling you where it was,” Blaine started, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

“Blaine, I came here to talk,” Kurt said, his tone quiet. “It’d be nice if we could do that without you automatically lashing out at me.” He paused, and their eyes met. “And I know how to use Google, so it wasn’t exactly that hard to find.”

 

“Okay.” Blaine nodded, pursing his lips. If Kurt wanted to talk, he was more than willing to listen. Maybe, he hoped, there would be some semblance of explanation for what was going on. Either way, he was still on edge from earlier that day, so he knew he was going to have to remind himself to keep his mouth shut. “So talk.”

 

“Can we… go somewhere? That isn’t the foyer of your house, I mean,” Kurt asked, gesturing around where they were standing. “Your room?”

 

Blaine hesitated, not really sure if he wanted to let Kurt in that far. His room was his place, much more personal than his room at Dalton had been. That had been his, but also shared, and it had only housed parts of him. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to have whatever conversation they were about to have someplace where his parents could hear. So he nodded, turning on his heel and starting up the stairs to his room.


	4. Chapter Three

It wasn’t like hadn’t been alone with Kurt before; that had happened so many times. Maybe that was why it was so difficult – because as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, all he wanted to do was pull him into his arms and kiss him. The familiarity of the situation – him, Kurt, bedroom, time alone – was almost enough to overwhelm him and make him forget exactly why they were there in the first place.

 

“None of this is what you think,” Kurt began carefully, perching on the edge of the bed. Blaine just stood in front of him, arms crossed.

 

“Oh, really?” He stopped talking when Kurt fixed him with a look and he bowed his head slightly. “Sorry, go ahead.”

 

“Brittany isn’t my girlfriend. Well, she is but she isn’t. Not really. It’s complicated.” Kurt bit his lip, looking down at his hands in his lap. “It’s difficult.”

 

“Well, that cleared things right up,” Blaine said dryly, and he didn’t even have time to react before Kurt had pushed himself up off the bed and caught his face between his hands, pressing a hard kiss against his lips. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up to what was going on, but once it did he shoved him away. “What the  _hell_ , Kurt?!”

 

“I really miss kissing you,” Kurt whispered, taking a step back and holding up his hands in surrender. “Brittany doesn’t even come close.”

 

“You made your choice.” Blaine ran his hand over his mouth, unsure of if he was trying to rub away the sensation or rub it in. “So you can go kiss your it’s-complicated-girlfriend-not-girlfriend and not me.”

 

“I’m  _gay,_ Blaine. One hundred percent, with absolutely no questions, gay.”

 

“Well,  _I_ have a few questions,” Blaine said, staring at him. His mind was whirring, trying to make sense of all the conflicting information.

 

“McKinley isn’t like Dalton,” Kurt started, unprompted. Blaine had figured that much out for himself, but he didn’t interject because Kurt was sounding more and more irritated – angry, even? – as he went. “Dalton is all old brick buildings, lofted ceilings, prestige, and  _security_. Everyone knows it’s like a safe haven for gay kids. You never had to worry about what people were going to think, going to say, because you had Dalton right there around you. McKinley isn’t like that. You don’t know what it’s like to be the one gay kid in your school, and be at a school where that’s not safe.”

 

By the time he got to the end, he was practically glaring at Blaine. Which would have been fine if he hadn’t been completely wrong.

 

“No,” Blaine said quietly, trying to keep himself reined in because it would have been  _so easy_ to go flying off the handle again. “You have… no idea, Kurt. I don’t mean about Dalton, because you’re right – it’s a wonderful, safe place, but it’s not like I was  _born_ there.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “I used to go to a school like McKinley. I got the shit beat out of me there. So yeah, I  _do_ know what it’s like to go to a school where it’s not safe for me. That’s why I went to Dalton in the first place.”

 

Kurt looked more pale than usual, and he was staring at Blaine with wide eyes. “Blaine, I—”

 

“…didn’t know,” Blaine finished for him. “I know.”

 

Because how could he have known? It wasn’t exactly a topic that Blaine talked about if he could help it. Not even all the Warblers knew about it, because he’d made the decision that he wasn’t about to let that define him as a person. He’d pushed himself to move past it, to grow. It wasn’t like Kurt had ever talked about school to him, a fact that Blaine had started to realize when Kurt had been talking about McKinley. Out of all the topics they’d covered in their months of acquaintance, other than mentioning it by name, Kurt had never said anything about his school situation. Despite how much they knew about each other on the whole, neither of them had known.

 

“I wasn’t going to out you,” he added, folding across his chest. He hadn’t exactly been alone at his school before Dalton; his friend Jeremiah had decided to come out by going to the Sadie Hawkins dance with him. They’d both landed in the hospital before the night was over. It wasn’t like he’d outed Jeremiah, but he felt responsible for what had happened. “Brittany…”

 

“Brittany is protection,” Kurt said, chewing on his lip. “Just like being on the football team, just like wearing boring clothes. It’s harder for people to pick me out if I seem so much like everyone else.”

 

“That doesn’t seem very fair to her,” Blaine murmured.

 

“Like I said before, it’s complicated.”

 

“What about glee club?”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Doesn’t seem very butch,” he said pointedly, and Kurt looked over at him. “What? It doesn’t. If that’s what you’re going for, it kind of goes against your plan.”

 

“Glee club is the only place I feel like I can be me,” Kurt answered plainly. “Plus almost all the guys in it are on the football team, except for you and Artie, so it doesn’t really seem weird to anyone.”  
  
Blaine felt like he couldn’t think straight. There was far too much all at once and while he wanted to understand, it wasn’t entirely easy to do. It didn’t make it any easier when Kurt was standing right there, looking at him with a look on his face that was practically pleading for Blaine to understand. He drew in a deep breath and tried to come up with the words he wanted to say.

 

“I think… you should go. I need to think.”

 

“Are you mad at me?” Kurt didn’t move from where he was standing, but he looked like it took a lot of effort to ask.

 

“No.  _Yes._  Kind of. Not,” he added quickly, “because of how you feel like you need to present yourself to people at school. But because I don’t like being lied to, or being made to feel like I’ve done something wrong when I haven’t – and that’s what it’s felt like over the past few days.”

 

“I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t expect you to be there.”

 

“That much was obvious.” Blaine rubbed his face and moved over to the door, hand resting on the doorknob as he glanced back over his shoulder at Kurt. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

 

Once Kurt was gone, Blaine shut himself up in his room and ignored the homework on his desk that he’d been trying to do before dinner. There was no way he could focus on any of it with how much else was going on in his head. Part of him wished he had Santana’s phone number, because he felt like all of that was what she’d meant by her ‘two sides to every story’ comment, but he couldn’t be sure. Because if she knew, wouldn’t other people? If she didn’t, his talking about it to her would be outing Kurt, and that wasn’t about to happen.

 

He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts and hitting the button to dial once he got to Wes’s name. Two rings went through before his former roommate picked up the phone, and he almost let out a sigh at the familiar voice on the other end of the line as Wes said hello.

 

“Wes, hey, how are you?”

 

“I’m doing fairly well, despite the coursework that seems to be piling up. How are you, Blaine?”

 

Blaine hesitated, because the truth wouldn’t work. Not the whole truth, anyway. Deep down he was still kind of waiting for an ‘I told you so’ from Wes regarding the whole Kurt situation over the summer, considering how quiet he’d been about all of it the whole time. No way could he tell him about what had happened without Wes analyzing everything and trying to dole out sage advice. He didn’t need advice; he needed not to think for a while.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“How’s the new school?”

 

“Absolutely nothing like Dalton,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I miss it, and everyone.”

 

“But especially me, obviously,” Wes said, and Blaine couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

 

“Yes, of course, especially you. How is everyone? Tell me what I’m missing out on, let me live vicariously…”

 

“Well…” He leaned back on his bed as Wes started recounting everything that had happened since Blaine had left – classes, rooming situations, new students, but mostly what was going on with the Warblers. No matter how glad Blaine was for the New Directions (a name he had seriously questioned when he’d heard it, but Santana’s snort of laughter had informed him he wasn’t the only one who heard what it sounded like) he had a feeling they would never come close to the Warblers in his life.

 

By the time they hung up, Blaine was equal parts calm and nostalgic, and that was enough to get him focused on what he needed to get done before bed, if nothing else. He wasn’t sure how school was going to go from then on, because knowing what Kurt was doing didn’t mean that things were going to get better, but he wasn’t about to let his grades slip. That wasn’t who he was, and besides, he needed something to focus on.

 

***

 

Nothing changed. Then again, Blaine hadn’t expected it to.

 

Kurt didn’t talk to him unless it was necessary, and seemed to avoid him unless he absolutely couldn’t help it. That hurt more than Blaine wanted to admit. He might have been angry with Kurt, but that didn’t change the fact that they had been friends once upon a summer. It would have been easier for him to get over that lingering irritation with him if he wasn’t going on and doing exactly what had made Blaine mad in the first place.

 

Santana proved to be invaluable, despite the fact that Blaine tried his hardest not to talk to her about Kurt. It would have been too easy to vent, to say everything, to put all the secrets out on the table, and he didn’t know her that well at all despite the fact that she seemed to always be right there by his side. He couldn’t imagine someone being much further from Wes than Santana was, yet somehow she seemed to be stepping up to fill his role in Blaine’s life as his closest friend at school. It was mind-boggling.

 

He never expected his relationship with Santana to reach absurd levels of confusion, especially not so early on, but within two weeks of being at McKinley, it did.

 

The weeks had flown by; classes piled on top of each other and glee club rehearsals were keeping him busy enough not to notice the time passing. Days ran together when they were the same over and over – same classes, same frustrations, same dodging around the crowded halls that were so unlike Dalton he still wasn’t used to them. Even glee club wasn’t as enjoyable as he’d thought it would be, but he also hadn’t expected a teacher who didn’t quite know how to run things properly or a powerhouse girl who, yes, was a great singer, but who was so neurotic he felt like everyone was just waiting for the day she would snap. Most days ended with boxing, because he needed an outlet more than anything.

 

One of the football players from glee club, Mike, had seen him waiting outside the locker room one day early on and told him it was fine to go in while they were getting ready for practice. He hadn’t thought he wasn’t allowed, and he also didn’t want to deal with it, but it would have been awkward to keep standing there waiting after he’d gotten an invitation inside. It was a little awkward to be in there with the whole football team even though he knew a few of them, especially Kurt, so he tried to keep to himself.

 

Music helped because if he had his headphones in, he could at least pretend like he was by himself. They didn’t come anywhere close enough to drowning out the loud conversations, laughter, or general  _noise_  of all the other people around him, but he could ignore it better if he had something else to listen to. He could pretend like he didn’t see Kurt looking at him – something Kurt had no right to do, all things considered.

 

If Kurt wanted to play straight, that was his choice. That just meant even more that he shouldn’t be watching Blaine when he got changed into workout clothes, or when he was starting in on the punching bag. Blaine knew better than to look at him, but he caught enough out of his peripheral to know what was going on, and it drove him crazy. Kurt wouldn’t talk to him, but he was okay with leering? That didn’t work for him. It just made his punches land harder.

 

And then there was Brittany, who seemed to be one of the sweetest people in the world. She always greeted Blaine with a smile, more often than not a smile  _and_ a hug, and was a constant source of laughter and brightness. It was just that every time Blaine saw her around Kurt, it seemed like she was  _really_ trying to sell the whole girlfriend thing or she honestly didn’t realize it was pretend. Because she was all affection – constant touching, kissing, cuddling, looks of adoration. She looked as gone as Blaine had felt. Santana had told him more than once not to worry about Brittany, which made him think she knew more than she let on, but he couldn’t help it.

 

All of that raced around in his head when he was alone in the locker room, fists pounding into the canvas of the bag and music blaring into his ears. He’d even gotten used to the occasional football player wandering through, gathering forgotten equipment or heading home early from practice. He could ignore almost anything once he was in the zone.

 

Almost.

 

Santana was one of those things he couldn’t ignore, and especially not the day she came into the locker room and shoved the punching bag at him roughly before plopping down on the bench right beside where he was standing. She looked more annoyed than usual, and Blaine tugged his headphones out of his ears before looking over at her fully. There was only so much he could tell from that, the way her mouth was drawn in a tight line and her arms were folded across her chest, but something wasn’t right.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, crossing her ankles and looking up at him.

 

“Okay…” He grabbed his towel off the bench and wiped off his face, still breathing hard as he raised an eyebrow at her. “So why are you in here?”

 

“Because I want to be.”

 

“I thought you had Cheerios practice?”  At least, he was pretty sure that the Cheerios practiced every day after school.

 

“I got bored, so I left,” she said curtly, but there was no way that was the real answer. “Look, are you done pretending to be tough and punching a bag? Because I want a cappuccino.”

 

“Sure, I can be done,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he started to unwrap his hands. “I… can I shower? I’ll be really fast, I just want –”

 

“Whatever,” she answered, getting  ~~up~~  to her feet. “I’ll go grab my stuff from my locker while I wait.”

 

Blaine watched her leave before he grabbed his shower things from the locker, hurriedly getting undressed and into the shower so he could be done before she got back. He just really hated the feeling of sweaty clothes sticking to his skin, and even if he’d changed back into his school clothes right away it still would have felt disgusting. All it took was a few minutes in under the water and he was done, out and dry and starting to get dressed again when he heard a group coming in from the football field, blocked from his vision by the line of lockers. He could see Santana coming back in, though.

 

“Hey Lopez, you can’t be in here!” one of the football players said as she came through the door, and she rolled her eyes.

 

“That’s funny, cause it sure seems like I can be.”

 

“No, you can’t, I don’t care if you’re a dyk—”

 

“Hey!” Blaine interrupted, stumbling around the edge of the lockers and glaring at the athletes standing there. They looked startled – either they’d forgotten he’d been there before or they thought he’d left – but none of them said anything. No one moved, not them, not Blaine, not Santana, though from what he could see out of the corner of his eye she’d gone slightly pale. There was the clamor of more people coming in from outside and that seemed to break the moment. Santana recovered first.

 

“For your information, Azimio,” she snarled, crossing the small distance and grabbing onto Blaine’s arm. “I was coming to get my  _boyfriend_ so we could go before you cavemen rubbed off on him.”

 

It was a good thing Blaine was too angry to have much of anything else register on his face, otherwise he was sure he would have blown it as soon as the word ‘boyfriend’ left her mouth. Her grip was so tight that he couldn’t do much but go along with it, but when she started to pull him toward the door he had to stop her. He was barely dressed - his jeans weren’t even fastened all the way, and his shoes were still on the floor by the lockers. “San, my stuff, I need it.”

 

“So get it,” she muttered, letting go of him and stalking out of the locker room. He ducked back behind the lockers, shoving his feet into his shoes and pulling his polo on over his head as quickly as he could. His bag got slung over his shoulder roughly as he stood, double checking to make sure that he had everything before he moved to go out the door.

 

He didn’t miss the incredulous look on Kurt’s face, or how he watched him until he was out of sight.

 

“Santana, what…” Blaine started as soon as the door shut behind him, but he stopped when he didn’t see her. He frowned, heading down the hall and stopping when he got to the doors leading outside, seeing a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and then following it to find her sitting against the outside of the building, knees pulled up to her chest. He pushed through the door and went over, crouching down beside her. “Hey, don’t let him get to you. He’s clearly just mad that he can’t land a fox like you, or something.”

 

“No,” Santana whispered, shaking her head. When she looked over at him, tears brimming her eyes, he knew there was something deeper going on. It was easily the most vulnerable – or the least powerful, which is how she usually seemed on a daily basis – she’d ever looked. “No, he’s not.”

 

“Oh my God,” Blaine said slowly as the wheels turned in his head. The way she always looked at Brittany – he’d known it was different, but he’d just chalked it up to the fact that they were best friends, practically inseparable when Kurt wasn’t around. How she was constantly telling him that he didn’t have to worry about Brittany, that she was fine and knew exactly what she was doing. The glances he sometimes saw passing between them when they thought no one was looking. It was amazing what he’d been able to pick up on and completely ignore in the short time he’d been there. “You  _are._ ”

 

“You’d better choose your next words  _very_  carefully,” Santana said, her voice low but a bit of bite returning to it.

 

“No, not a d— that’s not what I meant,” Blaine said quickly, shaking his head. He took a deep breath as he tried to find the right words. They came out in a whisper, because he knew better than to say it  _out loud_ out there where anyone could hear, even though they seemed to be alone. “Just that you… like… the ladies.”

 

“I want a cappuccino.” She stood up, brushing off her skirt and leveling him with a look.

 

“Lima Bean?”

 

“I’ll meet you there.” Santana turned on her heel and walked off toward her car, leaving Blaine still crouched on the ground as he watched her go. He got up, resituating his bag over his shoulder before heading down the steps and getting to his car as she squealed her tires on the way out of the parking lot.

 

It was another crowded day at the Lima Bean, just like the one when he’d first met Kurt, but for once the hustle and bustle was welcome. It was easier to have conversations without someone being able to hear if there was so much else to try and listen to. There wasn’t anyone that Blaine recognized from school, but then again he doubted many of the McKinley students went there. Why else would Kurt have felt it okay to go there dressed like his normal self?

 

Santana was already sitting at a table in the corner when he arrived, mug in front of her, and Blaine ordered himself a coffee before joining her.  Her hands were wrapped around the mug, fingers tight against it, and she barely glanced up as he sat down.

 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Blaine said quietly, resting his forearms against the table and leaning in toward her. “I would never do that, Santana.”

 

“Of course you won’t, because  _you_ are my boyfriend,” Santana said, her eyes finally meeting his. He blinked, his brow furrowing. “I need you to be.”

 

“I… what?”

 

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” she repeated, not looking away.

 

“Me? Would anyone actually believe that? You knew I was gay before you even talked to me.”

 

“I’m a closeted lesbian and a judgmental bitch, Anderson. My gaydar is spot on. If the rest of the school can’t see that Hummel is gayer than four guys blowing five guys, I think you’re safe.”

 

“ _Santana_.” Blaine took a long drink of coffee, trying to stall for time. “I don’t know…”

 

“Blaine, please.” Santana reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I don’t ask for help, ever, but I _am_ because I  _need_ it.”

 

There was no way that wasn’t true, and Blaine knew it. Santana didn’t seem like the type of person who liked asking for favors, or owing someone something, but she was sitting there looking at him with such pleading eyes and asking him to do this for her. He felt conflicted, because hiding who he was wasn’t something he’d ever planned on doing – he was proud of who he was. There was something about McKinley that scared Kurt and Santana both, though, and that’s why he ended up nodding.

 

“What does that entail, exactly?” he asked, flipping over the hand that was under hers and lifting it up so he could rest his chin on their linked hands as he looked over at her. “Being your boyfriend, I mean.”

 

“Well…” She took a sip of her cappuccino before setting down her mug and taking his other hand, moving it the same way he had to hers but tilting her cheek against it. “Loving and adoring me, of course.”

 

“Right,” Blaine said with a snort of laughter. She blinked at him a few times, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “No, but seriously.”

 

“Fine,  _pretending_ to love and adore me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like it’s hard, I’m kind of amazing.” He tilted his head, giving her an appraising look before shrugging. “Oh, come on.”

 

“What, I’m not allowed to tease my girlfriend?” he asked, and the word felt so strange and awkward rolling off his tongue.

 

“No, you’re not.” Santana dropped his hands so she could go back to cupping hers around her mug. “Honestly, this might be good for you.”

 

“Good for me? Let’s not pretend like we’re doing this for me and not you, Santana…”

 

“I’m just saying,” she said, leaning in closer so she could speak lower and he would still hear her. “You dating me – what reason would Hummel have to not talk to you anymore? You’re not a threat, you have a girlfriend.” He stared at her as she pulled back, a look on her face that was part know-it-all but mostly smug. “You’re welcome.”

 

“I could kiss you.”

 

“Let’s not get carried away. I know this whole girlfriend thing is new to you, but…”

 

“Oh hush,” he said, rolling his eyes. He watched her toy with the handle of her mug, the way she glanced out into the café with a brief forlorn expression before she turned her attention back to her drink, back to her normal default Santana face. “Hey, why did you want to come here before? You skipped out of practice for a cappuccino? I doubt your coach would approve.”

 

“No, it wasn’t that,” she said, shaking her head. “I just needed out of there. Brittany…” she trailed off, waving her hand around airily. “She really loves Kurt. Not like  _that_ , but it still sucks to have to stand there and listen to her go on when everyone else believes…”

 

“No, I get it.” Blaine rubbed his face and leaned back in his chair. “Just like how it sucks to watch Kurt with her, even though I know it doesn’t mean anything. It might be fake, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

 

“Exactly,” Santana agreed, biting her lip. “What’s your story with him, anyway? Before now, I mean.”

 

Blaine hesitated. Just because he and Santana were friends – fake boyfriend/girlfriend, whatever that was called – that didn’t mean he was about to give her any sort of ammunition against him or Kurt. Besides, it wasn’t like it was her business exactly how well he knew him. “We met at the beginning of the summer – here, actually. I thought we were friends, but then all this happened.”

 

“Just friends?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“ _Just_ friends.”

 

“Mhm. Well, we’ll see how friendly he gets when he finds out we’re ousting him and Brit as hottest faux couple at school. My girl’s gorgeous, no doubt, but you and I are a lethal combo.”


	5. Chapter Four

As it turned out, Kurt did get friendlier, or at least he didn’t have nearly as many reservations about talking to Blaine. He’d been there when Santana first pronounced Blaine her boyfriend. Maybe Blaine going after her so quickly had helped, or maybe it was the fact that Santana had been waiting for him in the parking lot the next morning so they could walk in together, hand in hand.

 

It felt strange to hold Santana’s hand, mostly because it was nothing like Kurt’s. He’d held Kurt’s hand so many times: walking with him up the stairs to his room at Dalton, laying there on his bed, sneaking him back out after hours. He wasn't sure if having those memories run through his head while his fingers were laced with Santana's was helpful or just made things worse.

 

“Hi.” Blaine glanced up from his locker as he worked at putting the combination in. Kurt was standing there, so close, his gaze flickering back and forth between him and Santana. She let go of his hand, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his cheek with an annoyingly smug ‘told you so’ whispered in his ear before she stepped away under the pretense of getting a drink of water.

 

“Hi,” he replied, finally getting the door to his locker open.

 

“So, Santana?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t anything challenging about his tone. It seemed more like curiosity – seeking a confirmation.

 

“Santana,” Blaine said with a nod, pulling out the books he needed and nudging the door shut. “What, are you surprised or something? I’m highly marketable. Ladies love me.” It wasn’t exactly a lie; any time they’d had mixers at Dalton with their sister school, Crawford, he’d had to disappoint a lot of girls – which would almost be an ego boost if he hadn’t felt so bad about it.

 

“Clearly,” Kurt said with a light snerk of laughter. Blaine couldn’t help but smile, because there was a hint of the Kurt that he knew.

 

“So are you actually going to talk to me now?” he asked quietly, glancing over at him. “I mean, I understood – knew why you weren’t before. I might not have liked it, but I got it. But…”

 

“I want to,” Kurt replied, his voice practically a whisper as he fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. “I—” He broke off as Brittany came up behind him and her arms slipped around his waist, her chin tucked up onto his shoulder. “Brit, Blaine and I were talking.”

 

“But I like talking to Blaine too,” she said, her brow furrowing.

 

“I  _really_ like talking to Blaine,” Santana practically purred as she sidled up next to him, her arm slipping through his. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing they would go away. For the first time in weeks he’d actually felt like he was going to get somewhere with Kurt, but no, as usual it wasn’t going to work. He managed not to jump away in surprise when he felt Santana’s hand run across his chest, and he opened his eyes to look at her. She quirked an eyebrow in response.

 

“Well, Blaine needs to get to class,” he said, taking a step back from them all.

 

Santana walked with him down the hall, since they were headed to the same part of the building. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to do it, if that was how the first morning had gone – not even the whole morning, just the start of it. Maybe it would get easier, and it had gotten Kurt to talk to him, and it wasn’t like he was going to back out of it.

 

As it turned out, being Santana’s fake boyfriend meant that he got a lot of random physical affection. It wasn’t something he was used to, especially not out in the halls of the school. Dalton had been different, and with Kurt it had always been behind closed doors. With the] few boys he’d dated, there had been light touches or hand holds every once and a while but not much. He wasn’t against it, just didn’t always feel comfortable with it considering what had happened the first time he’d dared to do anything in public with a boy.

 

But it was Santana, and that made it different. There was no threat of people glaring, hurling insults, throwing punches just because they were holding hands. He kind of understood why Kurt liked having Brittany around – it was almost reassuring to have someone to be able to hold on to. It wasn’t much different than how they had been before, walking along, talking, eating lunch together, just more touching. A whole lot more touching – almost all of which was initiated by her and not him.

 

“You’re making me feel clingy,” she commented as they made their way to glee club at the end of the day. “It wouldn’t kill you to try a little.”

 

“I keep thinking that you’ll slap me or something,” Blaine said, holding his hands up defensively. “I don’t know why, I just have this vision of pain.” It was partially true, but also that he just plain wasn’t used to the openness of it all.

 

“How about we make a deal,” Santana said, a glint in her eyes as she looked over at him. “You don’t have to worry about me slapping you unless you grab my tits.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“And since we know there’s absolutely no way you would ever do something that stupid, because you don’t have a death wish, I think we’re good.”

 

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have anything to worry about,” Blaine said, shaking his head as they walked into the choir room. He reached for her hand and tugged her over to what had become their regular seats. Kurt watched them as they crossed the room, and their eyes met for a split second. Blaine couldn’t help but smile a little as he settled in beside Santana.

 

He couldn’t get over how disorganized the glee club remained. Mr. Schuester occasionally came up with ideas but mostly it was Rachel deciding the songs of the week and what should happen – and no one seemed to think to question her. It was such a far cry from anything Blaine was used to, and it kind of drove him nuts. The Warblers had a council, sure, but they were still a team. They worked together to make decisions, choose music, everything.

 

Maybe it was because he missed Dalton, missed all his friends, felt so bizarre because of the whole development with Santana, but he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Mr. Schue?” he asked, raising his hand toward the end of the rehearsal. “I know that I’m new here, but I was in a group at my old school and we did things a little differently…”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, in almost every way, but I think there’s something to be said about doing at least one number a cappella,” he continued, not even reacting when Santana’s arm slid around the back of his chair. “Not that we don’t have an amazing band or anything,” he added quickly, glancing over at them. “Seriously, you guys are great, but it really shows you what a group is made of when they can hold their own without instruments backing them up.”

 

“We’ve never done an a cappella number,” Mr. Schue mused, his head tilting as he considered it.

 

“Mr. Schue, I have to protest,” Rachel interjected. “There’s no way that doing a number a cappella will give us the power and emotional meaning that we get when we have the band backing us up.”

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Blaine said before he could stop himself, and Santana’s hand gripped onto his shoulder. He looked over at her and she was smirking. Rachel looked appalled.

 

“Blaine, I know that you’re  _new_ here and all but we have a very specific sound…”

 

“I’m not saying to change it completely,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just saying it couldn’t hurt to give something new a try just once, and also that you can get plenty of power with just voices alone. If it’s alright with everyone, I’m pretty sure I could get the Warblers to come over here for a performance after school one day to show you what I mean. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to get a look at what could be your competition…”

 

“No one has football or Cheerios practice on Fridays,” Kurt offered helpfully, anticipating the next block that was going to be thrown out as a reason against his idea. Blaine shot a grateful look back toward him and got a smile in return. 

 

“Well if they’re up for it, I see no reason why it wouldn’t be a good idea to get some perspective on what other people are doing, even if we don’t decide to adopt the style for ourselves,” Mr. Schue said, the last part said with a look sent Rachel’s way. She seemed pacified by it. “You’ll have to let us know, so we can make sure to have everyone here.”

 

“Oh, they’ll definitely be up for it.”

 

It was the first time Blaine had been back to Dalton since moving out, and it felt so much like home that he couldn’t help wandering around the grounds a while before making his way to the Warblers' practice. He’d texted Wes to make sure they were still held at the same time, same place, and he’d forgone his usual trip to the locker room after school to make it there. He didn’t feel the need to box when he was so excited about seeing his friends.

 

He stopped outside the room, letting the familiar space and environment wash over him – it was almost calming. It was crazy how different a building, a room, could make him feel. McKinley was so crazed and hectic, and Dalton was reassurance and comfort. He hated how much he found himself wishing he could get back to it.

 

“Excuse me, but I believe you’re missing something.” Blaine turned around, his face brightening when he saw Wes standing there. “Your blazer, for one…”

 

“I came straight from school, and for some reason they don’t require me to wear it there,” he replied, pulling his former roommate into a tight hug.  He took a step back and grinned at him. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”

 

“Well, I was alerted to some spy from a nearby high school skulking around the grounds, so I figured I should come check things out,” Wes said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

 

“I have a proposition for you,” Blaine said, trailing after him into the all too familiar room.

 

“You waited until after you weren’t living with him anymore to proposition him?” Jeff asked as he came up beside Blaine, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “That’s bad timing, my friend.”

 

Blaine didn’t have a chance to respond, just to take in the glare Wes shot Jeff’s way, as the majority of the Warblers came over to say hello. There were a few new faces, but for the most part they were all the friends he’d had with him over his time at Dalton. Being there in that room with them, Blaine felt like he belonged. It was the feeling he had yet to have at McKinley. He couldn’t even help grinning when Wes started banging his gavel to bring them all to order.

 

“As you have all clearly noticed,” he said, somewhat dryly, “we’ve had a Warbler return into our midst. Newcomers, this is Blaine, he was with us until the beginning of this year.”

 

“I promise I’m not here to interrupt your rehearsal,” Blaine said, offering Wes an apologetic look. “I just had a performance opportunity to extend to you.” He paused, waiting for a nod from the council before he continued. “I go to McKinley High now, and their glee club could use a little Warbler-fication, so to speak. I’ve gotten a bit of resistance to my suggestion of a foray into the realm of a cappella, and was told that there was no way it could be as emotional or powerful as a song with an instrumental backup.”

 

There was a murmur around the room, and he held his hands up to silence it before Wes had the chance to reprimand them. “I know. Believe me, I know. That’s why I’m here, because I think if you all came and showed them how things are done here at Dalton, they wouldn’t be able to make such misinformed statements.”

 

“I assume you already factored in that we can’t go during school hours?” Wes asked.

 

“Of course. A majority of our glee club,” he said, and it felt weird to be referring to a group other than the Warblers as the group he belonged to, “is very involved in fall athletics, but there are no practices on Fridays. If there was any way for you to come right after school on a Friday, that would be perfect.”

 

“Let’s take a vote. All in favor of going to McKinley to show them what we’re made of?” Every single person in the room raised their hand, and Blaine felt an overabundance of pride swell up inside of him. “That settles it then. There’s just one little matter involved with that, though.”

 

“What’s that?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked over at Wes.

 

“We haven’t exactly been under any sort of pressure to have songs performance ready,” Wes explained. “So either we’ll need a bit of time, or we could perform songs from last year—”

 

“Songs from last year work,” Blaine said with a shrug.

 

“—for which we’re going to need to borrow our soloist from McKinley,” Wes finished smoothly, looking at him evenly.

 

Blaine stared at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming silence in the room. It was like everyone had taken in a breath all at once and nothing was moving. “Well, I don’t know,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I heard that guy kind of turned into a jerk once he hit the public school scene. He never visits, rarely calls…”

 

“I think we’ll forgive him for that,” Nick piped up, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, right?”

 

“Right,” Wes agreed, his eye still fixed on him.

 

“Well, if that’s alright with everyone else, I’d love to sing with you guys again.”

 

Singing with the Warblers again was enough to make everything that had been happening at McKinley fade away. There wasn’t any of the drama with Kurt, the fake relationship with Santana – just Blaine getting to be with his friends and do what they loved to do. It was what he had been hoping it would be like with the New Directions, but he knew that was a very new aspect of his life and it wasn’t going to come easily. He wanted to take in the moment and keep it fresh in his mind.

 

There were plenty of songs to choose from, but they wanted to make sure they picked the right ones – the ones that would prove their point. Considering they were using songs they’d performed so many times before, they didn’t even need that much rehearsal time. All it took was every afternoon after school that week – Blaine went without boxing for the good of the cause, and that he didn’t feel much like doing it when he got to be around his friends – and they were ready to do it that following Friday.

 

It was all he could think about all week, and each rehearsal made him that much more excited. There were  _some_ nerves, because clearly people were wary of what he was trying to do, but he couldn’t help looking forward to a performance with his friends. That was his comfort zone, and he was thrilled to get to spend some time there again. Not that he had told anyone at McKinley that he was going to be singing with the Warblers – not even Santana. Kurt had mentioned that he was looking forward to it, since he’d never heard the Warblers all together and he was sure that Youtube didn’t do them justice, though he  _had_ seen their rendition of “Teenage Dream” and thought that Blaine had done an amazing job.

 

Which he had said with the most unfair hint of a smile tugging at his lips, and what could have almost been mistaken for a wink if Blaine had been willing to let himself believe it.

 

“Your boys are performing out in the courtyard, right?” Santana asked as she leaned against the lockers next to his after the last bell. “A little serenading out amongst the masses?”

 

“Yeah, the courtyard,” he agreed absently, grabbing his bag and slipping it over his shoulder before shutting the door and turning to her. “Ready?”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Of course,” he said, not hesitating in the least. She linked arms with him and walked down the hall, out to the stairs and courtyard that had always seemed so out of place but was perfect for what they were about to do. The rest of the New Directions were already there, scattered along the stairs and around the tables, waiting. He knew they wouldn’t have to wait long – the last period at Dalton ended sooner than at McKinley - but still he couldn’t wait to see his friends.

 

It was bizarre to see the brethren of boys in blazers appear at the top of the stairs, looking so proper and completely out of place as they walked most of the way down.  The stairs gave some semblance of a stage, and they were there to perform, after all.

 

“New Directions?” Wes spoke up, and Blaine couldn’t fight off a grin. “Our friend Blaine told us that you needed a little persuading into the world of a cappella music, and we’re more than happy to give you some examples of just how great it can be.” Blaine thought he heard a ‘hmph’ from Rachel, but he didn’t care because he knew they were going to prove her wrong. The Warblers started chiming in with the soft chords and Blaine smiled to himself as he started singing.

 

“ _Hey_ …”

 

Santana startled a little next to him as he got up, giving her a little wink as the Warblers echoed back to him and he moved to join them where they were. They hit their bell tones perfectly and he stood right in the middle beside Wes as they started in on "Hey, Soul Sister.”

 

Their choreography might have been simple and not very well practiced, but that was hardly the point. Blaine loved the opportunity to connect with an audience – especially one where he felt like he had something to prove. That was why he sang so much of the first song looking directly at Rachel, though he could see everyone else’s reactions around her as well.

 

Santana looked amused, but then again she’d fully admitted to watching a lot of the Warbler videos before she approached him to join the glee club. Not all of their stuff was out there on the internet, but "Hey, Soul Sister" was, since it was something they’d done at competitions. Kurt was staring, and Blaine could feel his gaze even though he wasn’t looking to see it. Brittany was mimicking their dance steps from her seat right beside Kurt, oblivious to her boyfriend’s fixation. Everyone else seemed stuck somewhere between wanting to sing along and being a little shocked.

 

That was right where they wanted them – caught slightly off guard but still getting pulled in.

 

“ _Bright, bright, turn off the lights, we gonna lose our minds tonight…”_

 

Blaine felt completely in his element when they launched into "Raise Your Glass.” There was a substantial group forming aside from the New Directions: students who had been lingering after school or who had been leaving and heard something going on and came to see what it was. Apparently, a group of prep school boys singing Pink was quite the sight, based on number of cell phones that were being pulled out to take pictures and video.

 

Rachel certainly couldn’t keep up her arguments against them, considering how Brittany had managed to get her to dance along a little, and the way she her face kept breaking into a smile. That might have been Jeff’s doing - he kept making faces at her every time they hit ‘dirty little freaks.’ Adrenaline carried the song, and it was probably a little faster than it should have been but that didn’t matter. They drew in more of a crowd as the song continued, and Blaine’s glance flickered around them as they moved through the last chorus.

 

It was an interesting mix, a little bit of everything. About half the football team was there, most of the Cheerios, but then again they were all the people who were used to staying after school and had probably been hanging back out of habit. There were also a good number of people he recognized from different classes, or from the cafeteria whenever he and Santana actually ate at the school. Most surprising was that there were several teachers. There was a smattering of applause when the song ended, and Blaine bit back a smile as the Warblers sang the opening chords of their last song.

 

“ _Vum vum vum vummmmm….”_

 

“This last song,” he said, fighting to keep his gaze from wandering to Kurt as he spoke, “goes out to a special someone.” Santana owed him,  _big time_ , she just didn’t know it.

 

“ _Vum vum vum vummmmm…vadava vum”_

 

“ _Baby girl, where ya at, got no strings, got men attached_ ,” Blaine started, hopping down from the stairs and slowly sauntering over until he was right in front of Santana. The rest of the Warblers weren’t far behind him, making their way over to the New Directions to sing more directly to them than they had been. Santana’s eyes were wide, as were everyone else’s, and that was exactly what they’d been going for.

 

They'd never performed "When I Get You Alone" at any kind of real function. It had been a trial song that they’d done for the glee club from their sister school, Crawford, to great success. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a group of more flustered looking people ever in his life than he had that day – until they were right there in front of the gathered students and faculty of McKinley and there were  _so_ many blush-tinted cheeks in the crowd.

 

He couldn’t look at Kurt. When they’d been going through the song choices at Dalton, when he’d suggested that they do that particular one, Blaine knew he was only choosing it because of him. It was just too perfect, too  _fitting_ for everything that had and was was still going on between them. He couldn’t show it, couldn’t look at him, because that would have been too telling. So he settled on Santana, whose jaw was slightly open as she watched him sing to – flirt with – her. And that was the thing, because Blaine was so in love with performing and got  _really_ into it, and was so focused on the words being for Kurt and trying to sing it in a way that Kurt would  _get_ that, he definitely was selling it.

 

He let himself steal a glance toward everyone else, seeing how each of the Warblers had picked out either someone in the New Directions to sing right to – or someone in the crowd nearby – all girls, except for Jeff, who seemed to think it would be fun to sing to Puck. If anything would have made him break the performance and start laughing, it would have been that, because Puck was just staring up Jeff like he’d suddenly grown a second head that was singing right along. Jeff was unphased, and clearly having the time of his life.

 

They hit the last chord, the last ‘v _adavavum,_ ’ and he pulled away from Santana, stepping back with the rest of the Warblers as they lined up and took a little bow. There was applause, more than a few catcalls, and Wes nudged Blaine mid-bow and raised an eyebrow when he looked over. The eyebrow raise was partially a question of whether he thought it was a success, but mostly what-the-hell-is-going-on as he followed up with a look to Santana and then back to Blaine again.

 

“Later,” Blaine mouthed, wrinkling his nose and rolling his eyes. He really should have warned at least Wes, but he hadn’t wanted to get into any of it. Of course it would have been assumed that he picked the song for Kurt – because he  _had_. There was just no way he could have sung it to him legitimately. They straightened back up and Santana was immediately there, arms slipped around him and mouth pressed up close against his ear.

 

“You are the  _best_ fake boyfriend ever,” she whispered, and he returned her hug automatically, fingers splayed out against the stiff fabric of her cheerleading uniform as he glanced over her shoulder and saw the amount of people watching them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d actually think you’d want to get all up on this.”


	6. Chapter Five

Mr. Schuester gave his thanks to the Warblers, saying that they’d certainly given him a lot to think about in terms of their music choices, and that he appreciated them taking the time to give them such a performance. People had started to disperse as soon as they were done, and soon it was just the Warblers and New Directions standing there, chatting with each other.

 

Rachel had accosted Wes as soon as she was able, and seemed to be having an intense conversation with him – though if there was anyone that could deal with a barrage of questions from Rachel Berry, Blaine was pretty sure it was him. Jeff had moved on to Brittany, and that would have been an amazing and hilarious pairing if Brittany hadn’t looked so downcast and pouty. She kept whispering to Kurt, who was sitting stiffly next to her, an unreadable mix of emotions on his face as he kept shaking his head at whatever she was saying.

 

Kurt got up from the bench where he’d been sitting, pausing to say something to Jeff before making his way over to Blaine. He ran his hand through his hair, glancing up at the school. “I have your book.”

 

“My book?” Blaine asked, his brow furrowing. “What book? Oh,  _The Trial_?” He’d let Kurt borrow it earlier that week, because he’d misplaced his copy and they were in the same English class – just different periods. It had felt nice to be able to have that moment, that normal and tension free exchange, even if it had been something as simple as a book being borrowed.

 

“Yeah, I forgot to grab it, it’s in my locker,” Kurt said, shrugging, shifting on his feet and his gaze flickering up to the building. “We could go up and I could get it for you. I know your class has a writing assignment about it due Monday.”

 

“I… sure?”  
  
It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected Kurt to give it back, he just thought it was strange he was offering to do so right then. He had just planned on making a trip to the library if Kurt had needed it, though there had been the off chance of getting to meet up with him over the weekend to get it back and that would have been more than fine as well. As it was, he gave a half shrug and reached over to get his bag from where it was sitting beside Santana. She grabbed onto the front of his shirt and tugged him down to kiss his cheek, a move that made his cheeks flush slightly since his friends were all around and watching.

 

“Call me,” she added with a wink, and he swiped his index finger against the tip of her nose before turning to follow Kurt up to the building.

 

They made it in through one of the doors that was still unlocked, but the halls were empty and silent. It was eerie, considering how full of people and noise they usually were. Even after school, after boxing, when Blaine usually left there were people still milling around. Then again, it was Friday and there had been a concert going on in the courtyard – it really shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was that there was no one there. His adrenaline was still pumping after the performance and he even felt a little extra buzz from being there with Kurt, because they weren’t ever alone together anymore, and maybe that was why he didn’t realize they weren’t even in the right hall for Kurt’s locker. 

 

“Come on,” Kurt murmured, looking up and down the hall a few times before grabbing Blaine’s hand and tugging him into a small room off to the side. Blaine’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t have much time to react before he was being pushed back against the re-closed door and Kurt’s mouth was against his, swallowing down the soft, surprised sound he made.

 

It had been so long since he’d kissed Kurt, because the one brief kiss they’d shared in his room weeks prior didn’t count, and he’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get lost in the feel of their lips pressed against each other. His hands ran up Kurt’s chest and over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck and keeping him in close as he licked his way into his mouth, a quiet whimper escaping as the familiar, heady taste and feel of Kurt engulfed him. It was a kiss full of want and need, and almost desperation, but he didn’t care how it came across because he was _kissing Kurt_ and that was all that mattered.

 

He felt like they shouldn’t, because everything was so annoyingly complicated, especially not there in the school, but he couldn’t pay much attention to sensible thoughts when Kurt was sucking on his tongue like that and he wanted  _more_. It was easy to feel comfortable with something so familiar, the way Kurt’s breath would catch when Blaine’s fingers scratched lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck, how Kurt knew to nip  _just so_ at Blaine’s lower lip when he pulled back to make him sway on his feet.

 

And after all, wasn’t this exactly what he’d been hoping to accomplish with their final song choice?

 

Blaine released one of his hands from his neck, sliding it over Kurt’s chest and stomach and down to cup him through his jeans, and he broke his mouth away with a moan as his hand pressed in against his already hard length. He moved to kiss along his jaw, but Kurt pulled his head away. His pupils were blown and his eyes were wide, but the second part didn’t have anything to do with the steady way the heel of Blaine’s palm was dragging against his cock. It was fear.

 

“You can’t, someone could see,” Kurt whispered, his words broken apart with quiet gasps. “I bruise easily, remember?” Blaine really did, because he’d accidentally sucked bruises into Kurt’s skin on more than one occasion over the summer.

 

“Okay,” Blaine murmured, bringing his hand forward from Kurt’s neck to stroke his thumb over his jaw, right where he’d been about to kiss. One day, he thought, he would be able to kiss him as much as and wherever he wanted. But it wasn’t that day, and he had to work with what he was given – and the fact that he’d been given any amount to work with at all was still mind boggling.

 

His heart was pounding so hard against his chest as he leaned up and kissed Kurt again, catching his lower lip between his teeth and sucking on it. Kurt groaned low in his throat, his fingertips tracing down Blaine’s front until they were catching on the waistband of his pants and then down further still. Blaine shuddered lightly as Kurt’s fingers traced along the outline of his already straining erection, and he released Kurt’s lip from between his so he could bite his own to fight back a moan.

 

“Blaine…” His name was a half-whisper falling from Kurt’s mouth as he moved their hands out of the way and crowded into Blaine’s space, hips pressing in flush against his. Blaine’s hips jerked up automatically, and he whimpered at the feel of Kurt hard against his hip and the friction he got in return. He shifted slightly, bringing up one of his legs to curl up around Kurt, and it only took a few seconds before they were both rolling their hips in tandem, pulling little gasps and whimpers from each other.

 

Needing to be closer somehow, Blaine slid his arms around Kurt and held him tight. His fingers twisted into the fabric of his t-shirt, his face burrowed against the crook of his neck, and he just breathed him in and let himself feel. Despite everything else that was different about him, Kurt had the same sweet, musky scent that he always had, and his body felt the same as it always had, pressed in against Blaine. He was all lean muscles and strength, so familiar and the perfect amount of pressure and weight pushing onto him as he clung on closer and tighter.

 

There was no way he was going to last, not that Kurt seemed any better off. He’d been doomed ever since Kurt kissed him, since he realized that something was  _actually_ going to happen there in that little room shut off from the rest of the world. Heat pooled in his stomach as Kurt’s hands slid into the back pockets of his pants, and Blaine’s hips canted up slightly higher. Kurt’s thumbs hooked over the waistband of his pants, pressing in against the skin of his lower back.

 

Kurt groaned and pressed his face down against Blaine’s shoulder, trying to muffle himself as their hips bucked together a few more times before he choked back a moan, body trembling and stilling against him. Blaine freed his fingers from the grip they’d had in his shirt and slid them up into the back of his hair, stroking through it soothingly. He took in a shaky breath as Kurt’s hips started rocking into his again and Blaine’s fingers tightened in his hair as he came with a soft cry moments later.

 

Blaine let his leg drop from around Kurt’s waist and they stood silently, save for panted breaths passing between them, until Kurt let out a quiet noise that didn’t sound right at all.

 

“Kurt?” Blaine asked, swallowing hard to try and get the dry roughness out of his voice.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kurt said quickly, and they both lifted their heads up to look at each other. Kurt’s eyes were brimmed with tears, and felt like a punch straight to Blaine’s stomach. “I shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have…”

 

“Kurt, no, please don’t.” Blaine brought his hands up to cup Kurt’s face. “I can’t… this isn’t something I do. This whole summer, it’s not something that I’d ever done before. I don’t care, because it’s you, and you make me not want to care what I think I should or shouldn’t be doing. I get that things are complicated, way more complicated than I ever could have thought, and I’m not asking for anything from you. I just can’t be a regret, Kurt.”

 

Maybe it was fact that he was still feeling loose and sated from his orgasm that made all the words come out, because he hadn’t planned on saying any of them. He’d just meant to say something that would have made Kurt smile, or at least not look like he was about to burst into tears, but instead he’d said all that. His thumbs stroked lightly over Kurt’s cheeks as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

 

“I can’t be a regret. I can’t.”

 

“You’re not,” Kurt whispered, his hands sliding up out of Blaine’s back pockets and taking a step back. “I don’t regret this, I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I can’t talk about it right now. Here.”

 

“Then later,” Blaine said, his hands dropping down to shove into his pockets. “But soon? I can’t just sit and wait, Kurt, I need  _something_ to work with here.”

 

“After the game tonight,” he said, nodding. “I’ll call, I can come over?”

 

“Sure, that works.” Blaine was honestly a little shocked at the agreement and plan he’d gotten so quickly. He also tried not to think about the fact that his parents had plans to be out the entire night.

 

They left the room, getting the book from Kurt’s locker to try and avoid suspicion should there be anyone still outside by the time they got there, and separated paths once they were out the door. Blaine glanced over his shoulder as he headed his car, and Kurt was looking right back at him. He kept that last fleeting moment with him as he went home, thinking forward to later that night.

 

Wes wasted no time calling him later, Blaine’s phone ringing just after the time they had normally eaten dinner when he’d been at Dalton. He’d been expecting it, though he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

 

“Evening, sir,” he answered, leaning back on the couch and trying to quench the preemptive feelings of being judged. “You guys were amazing today; I wish we could do that all the time.”

 

“I think we’re all aware of the musical triumphs that were accomplished today,” Wes replied, and he had that no-nonsense tone in his voice that made Blaine instantly aware the attempts at distracting him were going to be fruitless. “Is there anything you’d care to tell me? Your sudden foray into women, perhaps?”

 

“It’s not… what it looked like.”

 

“Oh good, because it looked like you and that Latina girl, who I think was trying to pick Thad apart after you left, had something going on,” Wes continued, making Blaine honestly concerned for Thad’s well being. “Which would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Because you’re gay.”

 

“Yes, I’m gay,” Blaine said, rubbing his forehead. “Wes, give me a chance to explain, please.”

 

He wouldn't be able to say anything that didn’t make it sound ridiculous, because it all really was, but he launched into it all anyway, leaving nothing out.  Wes was the most discreet and trustworthy person he knew, and it wasn’t like he was ever going to be around McKinley, so he didn’t skim over the details of why he and Santana appeared to be more than just friends. He spilled out everything that had happened with Kurt, except for their sneaking off into the school after the performance that afternoon, and just how frustrating it had all been.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Wes, I’m going to need a little more than ‘wow’ from you.”

 

“I have never appreciated Dalton more than I do in this moment.”

 

“Thanks a lot.” Blaine tilted his head back against the couch cushions and sighed. What he wouldn’t give to go back to Dalton, where life was much less complicated and he felt completely at home. Except that wasn’t an option, and he couldn’t be upset about it. “You’re very helpful.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Wes countered. “It’s just that I know we have our drama and our moments, but I couldn’t have even imagined anything nearly as convoluted as all that. You’re dating a lesbian, Blaine. You are _actually,_ with complete knowledge, dating a lesbian.”

 

“It could be worse,” Blaine offered, biting his lip.

 

“How?”

 

“Well, at least Santana’s pretty?” Wes snorted, and Blaine smiled a little. “I’m kidding. Well, she  _is_ pretty but you know what I meant. I just… I don’t like pretending to be something I’m not, but I don’t know if I can be too mad about it because I’m helping her. Plus, I’m new there, but there has to be  _some_ reason that they’re so scared about being found out. Not that it’s ever really easy to be in that situation, but Kurt constantly seems terrified. It’s nothing like how he was all summer, you know?”

 

“Environment does a lot to shape how someone acts. I just think you need to be careful, Blaine. It all seems like a slippery slope – so many lies, something could go wrong so easily and bring everything down, and there are so many people involved and counting on it not going wrong.” Wes drew in a deep breath and let it out before continuing. “I think you should talk to the guidance counselor, or someone, about what’s going on. Not necessarily the  _details_ but I think you’re right – it seems like there’s an underlying reason, the fear, why this all has been deemed a necessary course of action. No one should have to hide like that.”

 

“I’m not sure if that’s my place, but I’ll think about it,” Blaine said quietly. Other than meeting with the guidance counselor once to go over his transfer, he hadn’t seen her at all. “Nothing like this would have ever happened at Dalton.”

 

“Well no, we’re kind of lacking in the girls department,” Wes countered dryly.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Yes, I do. Please consider talking to someone, Blaine. If this blows up, it could make things even worse for everyone involved.”


	7. Chapter Six

There was plenty of time for Blaine to think between getting off the phone with Wes and Kurt texting him to say he was coming over. Watching the reality tv that was taking up space on his DVR required much attention or thought – it was the perfect background noise for him to get lost in his head. He knew Wes was right, that if something deeper was going on that someone should be told. That was the whole point of having a guidance counselor, right?

 

The knock on the door broke him out of his thoughts.Kurt was on the other side when he pulled it open, illuminated by the dim porch light. He looked tired, and damp. Blaine squinted out past him, wondering if it was raining and he just hadn’t noticed, but then he realized it was just Kurt’s hair that looked wet. It took  a few more seconds than it should have for him to remember that Kurt had just played a football game and had probably taken a shower after.

 

“Sorry, come in,” he said, stepping back out of the way. Kurt moved inside and toed off his shoes out of habit, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked over at Blaine. “How was the game?”

 

“Well we won, so it was good,” Kurt answered, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Are your parents–”

 

“They’re out,” Blaine supplied, shaking his head. “At a friend's for dinner so they won’t be back until late.”

 

They went into the living room, settling in on the couch where Blaine had been before, and he sat not knowing what to say or how to start. Kurt was the one who said he would talk about it, and Blaine didn’t want to have to ask, didn’t want to feel like he was pestering him for answers he wasn’t ready to give. But he  _did_ want answers, considering how backwards his life had seemed for weeks.

 

“I don’t regret it,” Kurt began quietly, staring down at where his hands were clasped in his lap. “Not what happened today, or anything that happened over the summer. I don’t regret  _any_ of it.”

 

“You seemed… upset, today. After…”

 

“I’m scared, Blaine. Every day I wake up and I think, what if today’s the day everyone finds out? I’ve been so careful, tried so hard, but then you’re there. I see you every day and all I want is to be able to kiss you and not have to worry, but I can’t. Today I couldn’t…  _not_ do anything, but then it was there at school and  _what if_ someone had been there?” Kurt stopped suddenly, rubbing his hands over the tops of his thighs and taking in a deep breath. “It can’t,  _that can’t_ happen, not there.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine said, reaching over and taking one of Kurt’s hands in his. “It’s okay, Kurt.”

 

“How can it  _possibly_ be okay?”

 

“Well, it’s not okay that you feel like you have to hide,” he amended, shaking his head. “No one should make you feel that way. You should be allowed to be you, no matter where you are.”

 

“I’m sorry I never told you,” Kurt whispered. “I should have, I know, it was just that everything with you was so easy. It wasn’t like I went to the Lima Bean looking for someone to hook up with for the summer – and that’s not what I considered you to be or anything,” he added quickly. “I just went to have some time to myself, to  _be_ myself, before I had to start dealing with football practices and everything like that, but there you were. All I wanted to do, from the second I saw you, was talk to you, and then after that… I wanted whatever you were willing to give because with you, I felt like  _me_ for the first time in years.”

 

Blaine felt like his heart was breaking. He couldn’t imagine feeling so unlike himself, but he’d never been one for hiding who he was. He hadn’t before the  Sadie Hawkins' incident, and he hadn’t after. Then again, Dalton hadn’t given him any reason to – they had a zero tolerance bullying policy and even if they hadn’t, no one there had ever seemed the least bit resistant about his sexuality. Hiding and lies weren’t things that he did, though he found that he was tangled up in both at McKinley.

 

“Did something happen to make you feel like you had to do all this?” he asked, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze. “At school, I mean. Did someone do or say something to you?”

 

“Not… specifically,” Kurt said slowly, his head giving a barely perceptible shake. He hadn’t looked at Blaine since they sat down. “I just remember in middle school, the things people would say. How it was always an insult when it was implied or said that someone was gay. I remember how people would react, how it was the worst thing that could be said about them, and I thought… I don’t want them to know because then they’ll think I’m that horrible, I’m the worst thing that they could think of.”

 

“Kurt…”

 

“I know I’m not,” he clarified, clearing his throat and glancing at Blaine out of the corner of his eye. “I know that kids are dumb and use words in ways they shouldn’t, I know there’s nothing wrong with me. It took me a while to get there, because I was a dumb kid too, like every middle schooler, but I know. By the time I figured it out, I was already so far into this,” he gestured to his clothes, and he was even wearing a football t-shirt again, “that it was just easier to stay that way. It’s not like Lima changed, just because I did – it’s still ignorant and narrow-minded and just because  _I_ know there’s nothing wrong with me doesn’t change the fact that there are people out there that still think so.”

 

“People are assholes,” Blaine said, his brow furrowed. “You’re your own person and your life is for you, not them. They shouldn’t care so much about who you like or are attracted to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I never would have expected any of that. You seemed so confident, so self-assured when we first met, and then all summer.”

 

“Sorry to have disappointed you.” There was a slight bite to Kurt’s tone, and Blaine quickly reached up to cup his jaw in his hand and turn him so he would actually look at him, straight on.

 

“You didn’t,” he said firmly. “You… surprised me, confused me,  _frustrated_ me, but never disappointed.”

 

“Well as long as I didn’t disappoint.”

 

“Never.”

 

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Kurt’s mouth, and he started to turn to face Blaine more fully but stopped with a wince.

 

“What happened?” Blaine asked, moving his hands away as if they’d somehow caused it.

 

“I got tackled tonight,” Kurt said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s not supposed to happen, but it did, and it  _hurt_ really badly. He was huge. I thought he was going to squish me to death, but he didn’t, he just messed up my back.”

 

“Football is dangerous,” Blaine offered sagely, nodding.

 

“It  _is_  and it hurts.” Kurt was pouting by that point.

 

“Lucky for you, I have a really comfortable bed upstairs, and I’ve been told I give  _excellent_ back massages. Magic Hands Anderson, they called me…”

 

“I bet they did,” Kurt said with a snort of laughter. “I’ve had several experiences with your hands and I cannot deny that they are, in fact, magic. Though a massage would be new…”

 

“Come on, we’ll get you all fixed up. Or at least relaxed enough to not care anymore.”

 

That was how they ended up in Blaine’s bedroom, Kurt lying flat out on his stomach on the bed and Blaine hovering over him, a knee on either side of Kurt’s hips, his hands making broad strokes over his bare back. He didn't have massage oil or anything like that, so he’d made do with some lotion. His thumbs pressed in as he slid them up either side of Kurt’s spine, and he heard a muffled sound from where Kurt’s face was buried against the covers.

 

“What was that?” he asked quietly, palms smoothing over his shoulder blades briefly before moving up to his neck.

 

“I said I take back my moment of mocking you,” Kurt mumbled, turning his head just enough that he could be heard. “I’ll call you Magic Hands Anderson from now on – oh  _God,_ Blaine.” He broke off in a moan as Blaine’s thumbs rubbed insistently against the back of his neck, up into his hair. Blaine felt his dick twitch in response, the way his name sounded falling from Kurt’s lips in a moan when he couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

 

He shifted up onto his knees, moving his hands down and letting them slowly work down Kurt’s back. It really wasn’t helping matters, the little breathy sighs that were coming from the boy beneath him with any slight change in pressure against his back, the way he could make him groan by pressing his thumbs in  _just so_ into the dimples at the small of his back. Kurt seemed to melt away into the mattress beneath him, loose and relaxed and breathing slowly.

 

Blaine couldn’t help himself, having Kurt there sprawled out on his bed – so much pale, smooth skin begging to be touched and kissed. He leaned in, brushing soft kisses against his shoulders, working his way up to nip at his earlobe before mouthing at the crook of his neck, remembering back to earlier that day and being careful not to suck or bite or do anything that would be noticeable later. The last thing he wanted was to give Kurt a reason to worry.

 

His hands slid along Kurt’s arms, holding gently onto his biceps as he moved to the other side of his neck, nuzzling and kissing and breathing him in. He felt like he was drowning in Kurt, in being allowed to take him in as much as he wanted for the first time since before school had started. He could touch, feel, just  _be,_ and that was just the most incredible thing that had happened in his life since getting to McKinley.

 

It helped that Kurt was so responsive, the way he would tilt his head to give Blaine more skin to work with. How his breath kept hitching every time Blaine’s fingers flexed and tensed their hold briefly on his arms. Blaine sucked on his earlobe, his teeth scraping against it as he let it slide from between his lips, and traced his tongue against the shell of his ear. Kurt’s hips rocked back against him and Blaine let out a soft whine as he felt the slight pressure and friction against his half-hard cock.

 

“Let me blow you,” he whispered against Kurt’s ear, earning a muffled moan from him. He sucked on his earlobe again, grinding down against the cleft of his ass. “Please?” He didn’t think it was a request that would cause Kurt to balk, considering it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. There had been several blowjobs traded over the summer – enough that Blaine felt confident he knew what Kurt liked, and that Kurt would consent.

 

“Please,” Kurt repeated, his voice high and breathy, nodding and attempting to shift beneath him. There wasn’t much hope of him being able to move with Blaine on top of him, so he let go of Kurt's arms and lifted himself up so Kurt could turn over.

 

Their mouths crushed together in a desperate kiss as soon as they were facing one another, and Blaine groaned against him before he forced himself to pull away and move his mouth down. He skipped over his throat, his neck, not wanting to risk it. There were bruises mottling Kurt’s skin, formed from the hit he took during the football game, darkest where the protective equipment had dug in against him. Blaine carefully brushed kisses around them, not wanting to hurt, as he scooted down the bed and between his legs.

 

Kurt had those hipbones that Blaine loved so much, the way they jutted out and were so easy to suck on and bite – and that’s exactly what he did. He felt fingers slide into his hair, not pushing him away, as his tongue traced into the dip of muscle, dragging down to the waistband of his pants. His fingers worked quickly to undo the fastenings on Kurt’s jeans, and they slid off his legs so much easier than the jeans Blaine was used to pulling off him. He tugged off his boxers too and slid his hands up his legs, looking up at him and just taking in every inch of bare, exposed skin.

 

Blaine stretched himself up to settle his elbows on either side of Kurt, his hands splaying across his hips as he dipped his head down and nuzzled against his groin. Kurt took in a sharp breath, hand moving down to cup the back of Blaine’s neck. He nosed against the base of his cock, his breath huffing out against it briefly before he mouthed at his balls, tongue laving over them as Kurt’s blunt fingernails scraped up into the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

Lifting his gaze, looking up through his eyelashes, he could see Kurt’s head tilted back, his neck elongated and exposed. He wanted to crawl up over him, cover his neck in kisses and hickeys until he ran out of space. That wasn’t something he could do so he had to focus on what was in front of him – and that was Kurt’s cock, which was flushed and straining up toward his stomach. He pulled his mouth away and flattened out his tongue, slowly dragging it up the underside of Kurt’s length in one broad stroke.

 

“ _Blaine_.” Kurt’s hips fought up against his hands in response, and he kept them held down as he let the tip of his tongue dip into the slit and taste the precome gathered there with a groan. He shifted one of his arms over to brace against Kurt’s hips so he could free a hand to grip the base of his cock and lift it up to sink his mouth down over.

 

It felt odd to think of it as reassuring, but that was exactly what the weight of Kurt’s cock against his tongue was. Kurt’s fingers found their way into his hair again and twisted in as Blaine’s head bobbed slowly, his tongue stroking against him and swirling around the head every time he pulled up, but never quite all the way off. He whimpered a little as Kurt tugged at his hair, not hard enough to hurt but definitely enough to get his point across.

 

Blaine worked his hand in tandem with his mouth, covering whatever he couldn’t take in, though that became less and less. He stopped as he felt him hit the back of his throat, swallowed around him as his nose almost touched his belly, and he breathed out hard through his nose as he glanced up at Kurt again. Kurt looked so beautifully close, a flush high in his cheeks and his lower lip caught between his teeth, and Blaine could see he was biting down on it hard. He waited for Kurt to look down, his lip slipping from between his teeth with a moan as their eyes met.

 

His arm loosened over Kurt’s hips, not pinning them down anymore and moving to help brace himself up off the bed. Kurt’s hands moved down out of Blaine’s hair, cupping his face in them as his hips canted up slightly and he jerked up into his mouth. Blaine groaned, his fingers knotting into the covers on his bed as he kept his throat open around him, and Kurt thrust into his mouth half a dozen more times before he cried out and Blaine felt the hot pulse of his come, pulling back slightly so he could swallow him down. He sucked softly at the head of his cock until Kurt whimpered and nudged him with his knee to get him to stop.

 

Kurt’s hands scrabbled at the back of his shirt as far down as he could reach, raking it up his back and tugging until Blaine sat up enough for it to get pulled off over his head. He blinked owlishly down at Kurt, the both of them still trying to catch their breath, but Kurt grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. Blaine moaned as Kurt licked his way into his mouth, tongues clashing as they both attempted to have some semblance of control.

 

“Lay down,” Kurt commanded in a whisper when they finally managed to break apart.

 

“Kurt…”

 

“Lay down,” he repeated, his hands finding Blaine’s shoulders and steering them back toward the mattress. Blaine shifted back, his head hitting the pillow as Kurt sat beside him and started working off his pants. His hand was on him as soon as they were peeled off, and Blaine bit back a yelp of surprise at the sudden contact as Kurt palmed him, his fingernails dragging against the fabric of his boxers, the pressure a relief from the ache he’d been feeling.

 

It barely lasted seconds before his boxers were off too and Kurt was between his legs, the wet heat of his mouth surrounding him. Blaine’s hips jerked up instinctively, a moan ripping its way from his chest as he felt Kurt’s tongue flattening over the head of his cock with every upstroke he made. He had been so close already, just from everything else, and he could feel his muscles starting to tense in anticipation as Kurt hollowed out his cheeks and dragged his mouth so tightly around him.

 

“Kurt, f-fuck,” he stammered out in a whine, his back arching up after Kurt gave a particularly hard suck and pulled off with a popping sound that felt like it was echoing around the room. He propped himself up on his elbows to look down, to see what had happened to make him stop, but Kurt was laying there watching, hand stroking loosely over him. “What are you—?”

 

He broke off and dropped back onto the bed as Kurt dipped his head down, tracing the tip of his tongue up the length of his cock before taking him in again, his gaze never dropping from Blaine’s. His head tilted back, Kurt’s name falling from his lips in an exhale, and he let his hips rock up just slightly to meet him. Kurt moaned, and the vibrations made Blaine tremble as he felt himself starting to teeter on the brink. His hands gripped Blaine’s thighs, fingers digging in against his skin, and Blaine reached down to grab onto his shoulders as he tensed, a choked off moan dying in his throat as white flashed behind his eyes and he came hard.

 

Blaine laid there unmoving, his breath still coming in ragged as his fingers loosened their hold on Kurt’s shoulders. It was a full minute before he even realized that Kurt was brushing light kisses along his torso.

 

“Kurt?” he mumbled, slowly moving back up onto his elbows to be able to see him. He frowned as he saw what he was doing, fingertips tracing over scars that Blaine liked to pretend weren’t there.

 

“I never noticed them before,” Kurt murmured, pressing a kiss above his bellybutton.

 

“My battle wounds of gayness,” Blaine attempted to quip, but he was still a little too foggy in the head to make it anywhere near good. “It’s okay, I don’t notice them either.”

 

“No, but I should have.” Kurt bit his lip and looked up at him. “What I said before, about you not knowing what it’s like, I shouldn’t have said that. I know I didn’t know, but still. You didn’t deserve that. Or any of this…” His fingers ghosted over another scar, and Blaine reached down to grab onto his arms, pulling him up and kissing him softly.

 

“Kurt, I didn’t hold it against you, I don’t,” he said, hands moving up to smooth over his back. His legs shifted up, his feet flat against the bed as he held Kurt in close. “I stopped caring about them a while ago. Lots of people have things happen to them that they don’t deserve – I’m not going to sit around and feel bad for myself because something happened to me. I moved on, I’m fine, I don’t want you feeling bad for me, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Kurt whispered, pressing a kiss against his neck. “I’m sorry for everything at McKinley, I know you didn’t ask to get wrapped up in all this.”

 

“I’ll survive. It’s not exactly my ideal situation, but…”

 

“Thank you.” Blaine tilted his head, looked over at Kurt. He was looking up at him with such an earnest, honest look in his eyes, it was easy to read that those two words meant so much more than just a normal statement of gratitude. It wasn’t Kurt thanking him for one thing or the other, it was for everything – but mostly the fact that he was going through all of it for him.  Blaine brushed a kiss against his forehead, his fingers sweeping through Kurt’s hair as he breathed out a sigh.

 

“For you? Always.”


	8. Chapter Seven

There was one thing, one person, that Blaine hadn’t factored into any of what happened with the Warblers, with Santana, with Kurt.

 

Brittany.

 

He didn’t even realize anything was potentially wrong until he got to school the following Monday and she’d brushed past him without even so much as a hello. That was the thing with Brittany – she was very friendly and affectionate. The first time he ‘officially’ met her it had started with a hug, and that pretty much summed up how she was with him from then on. Except after the Warblers performance, after his evening spent with Kurt, she wasn’t like that anymore. She practically clung to Kurt, more so than usual, and she barely gave Blaine more than a glance.

 

She barely looked at Santana at all.

 

That wasn’t something Blaine would have noticed, normally, but Santana was more than aware of it. Her mood seemed worse than usual, considering that she tended to be looser around him, far less snippy than she was with most. But when Brittany was ignoring her, apparently that meant that all bets were off. By the time they got to lunchtime, she’d practically snarled at him in the halls twice and she was being downright mean.

 

“Not that I’m trying to make up excuses for you to stop biting my head off,” Blaine murmured in a low tone as she stood next to his locker, filing away at her nails like she was trying to get them of completely, a scowl twisting her lips, “but aren’t we supposed to be a happy couple? I mean, if I had a boyfriend who sang a song about how much he wanted me, in front of God and everyone that was out there, I don’t think I’d be a complete jerk to him later.”

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly get any over the weekend,” she muttered, taking a particularly violent swipe at her thumbnail with the file. “And I’m completely getting the cold shoulder. So forgive me if I’m not exactly feeling hospitable today.”

 

“I’m just saying, I doubt it’s helping other people believe,” he whispered back, shutting the locker door and slipping his arm around her waist. She leaned into his touch just a little, but enough for him to know that his words had made an impact. “I know you’re upset, but…”

 

“…don’t take it out on you?” she finished, glancing over at him. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll play nice or whatever.” She leaned in, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek. “How about we blame my crabbiness on lack of sleep from our sexcapades all weekend?”

 

“ _San._ ”

 

“What? You’re the one who said I could keep my toys in the drawer,” she teased quietly, and thank goodness for that because it meant that she was acting like her normal self. “And I  _love_ my toys, so maybe we got one or two out just for fun since I’m sure you’re more than capable of taking care of my needs and all.”

 

“Of course I am,” Blaine shot back, his voice still low. There was a light flush high on his cheeks, but he blamed it on the fact that he really hadn’t ever planned on picturing doing those types of things with his friend – his  _girl_ friend – and she seemed more than comfortable giving him fodder for mental images. “Why else do you think you’re so worn out today?”

 

“Atta boy,” Santana said with a grin, bumping her hip against his. “Come on, I want to have lunch out.”

 

Once time for glee club rehearsal rolled around, it seemed as though any agreement Blaine and Santana had come to before lunch had disappeared. Brittany was sitting in the back row of the risers, looking annoyed about something, and as soon as Blaine walked through the doorway he was accosted. Santana hopped up out of her seat, practically stalked her way across the room, and kissed him full on the mouth.

 

Blaine’s hands flew up to grab her arms, mostly to keep himself from falling back out of shock. It wasn’t like Santana hadn’t kissed him before, but it had always been on the cheek, or maybe the corner of his mouth (which he always assumed happened because she was distracted and she’d actually just been aiming for his cheek in the first place), but never on the lips. Never with such a determined press and not letting up right away. He squeezed her arms gently and gave an imperceptible push back against them to get her to stop.

 

“San,  _what—_ ”

 

“Everyone take your seats, let’s get started!” Mr. Schue called out, and Blaine didn’t get the chance to finish asking his question or even finish  _thinking_ of his question. He was far too startled for the words to form clearly. Santana took his hand and pulled him over toward their seats, and he spent most of the rehearsal in a confused daze. 

 

No one else in the room seemed to think something was amiss with what had happened, but then again the majority of them shouldn’t have. Blaine snuck a glance up to where Kurt and Brittany sat, but Kurt looked impassive – his normal expression at school – and Brittany looked miserable. There was definitely something up with the way Santana kept some form of contact with him the whole time – her arm around the back of his chair, their hands linked together, her head rested against his shoulder.

 

Thankfully, Rachel and Mercedes seemed content to duke it out over a solo for most of the rehearsal. He’d never heard so much bickering go on over a single song, and then the fact that Mr. Schue seemed content to let them? All Blaine could think of was Wes and his gavel, and how he could probably whip the New Directions into shape in one afternoon or less.

 

Brittany was out of her seat and halfway to the door when the bell rang, a furtive glance sent over her shoulder before she disappeared out into the hall. Blaine felt Santana shift next to him, like she wanted to go after her but stopped herself, so he got up to his feet and shook his hand free from hers. There was something wrong, obviously, and he hated to see someone like Brittany be upset. She was too sweet, and the way she’d been avoiding him made him feel like he was at least partially to blame.

 

Catching up to her wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. They were the same height but somehow her legs were infinitely longer than his and she’d been walking fast when she’d left. It was easy to track her, though, red skirt and blonde ponytail swishing back and forth as she booked it down the hall away from the choir room. He jogged a little to keep up and got to her right before she reached for the door to the gymnasium. “Brit!”

 

“Go away, Blaine,” she mumbled, her shoulders dropping forward a little as she grabbed the door handle.

 

“I…” Blaine paused, blinking a few times and watching her. “Hey, no, come on Brittany, I don’t even know what I did wrong. You’re upset about something and I just want to help. If it’s my fault, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give me a little help in figuring out what I did. I just want you to smile again.”

 

That got her to stop, at least, and look over at him, and he instantly felt his heart crumbling to pieces. She just looked so  _hurt_ and he couldn’t stand it. This was the bubbliest person he’d ever known, and she looked broken beyond words. He reached over hesitantly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to, but she didn’t, and he took her hand.

 

“I just…” she began, but her gaze was flitting around the area, everywhere but on him. He glanced around, taking in the students milling around behind them, before turning his attention back to her.

 

“Want to go somewhere quiet to talk?” he asked, hoping that by quiet she knew he meant  _private._ She wasn’t as blunt as Santana, who rarely said the words but always made it known that she wasn’t comfortable, or as shifty about it as Kurt, who was always clearly obvious when he couldn’t talk about something where they were. Either way, she gave a little nod and let go of his hand as they started walking.

 

Finding someplace private to talk in the school was practically impossible, between the practices that were getting ready to start and the faculty that was still there getting work done for the day. It only took a quick loop around the nearby hallways to realize that there was no way they were going to be able to talk there.

 

“Did you… we can go to my house? Or somewhere else that you want.”

 

“My house,” Brittany agreed after a long moment of silence. “You have to drive though.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine said with a nod, heading out to the parking lot with her. It was a quiet drive, with her giving directions when she needed, and it only took them a few minutes to get to her house. He didn’t know what to expect as they went inside, but she led him up to her room and shut the door behind them before sitting on the edge of her bed and looking up at him.

 

Blaine didn’t know what he should do, whether he should stay standing there or sit – and if so,  _where_ would he sit? – but he didn’t have to think about that too long before the biggest cat he’d ever seen in his life hopped up on the bed and slinked its way onto Brittany’s lap. He blinked, then stared, as she gathered it up in her arms and hugged it in close before looking up at him.

 

“I’m mad at you,” she said simply, tilting her head so her cheek was resting on top of the cat’s head.

 

“What did I do?” he asked, his eyes finally making their way back to her face from the cat.

 

“You slept with Santana.”

 

“ _What?_ No,  _no no no_ , Brittany, I most definitely didn’t sleep with Santana,” Blaine said quickly, shifting over to sit beside her, his eyes wide. “I absolutely did  _not._ ”

 

 “Yes you did,” Brittany said, her brow furrowing a little. “I was there – you… you sang that song to her and then today I heard you guys talking about how that was why she was all tired, because that’s what you guys had been doing all weekend.”

 

“Brit – that’s – I’m  _gay_  and Santana is too and –”

 

“That’s why I thought it was weird but, I mean, Santana’s slept with lots of guys before. So I thought maybe that was what pretend boyfriends and girlfriends did, even if they were gay? Except Kurt won’t have sex with me no matter how many times I ask.”

 

“Brittany,” Blaine said, thinking over his words carefully. His heart was still kind of racing from the initial accusation, because he never thought he’d hear those words put together and especially not coming from someone who believed them – someone who should  _know better_  than to believe them.

 

“I didn’t sleep with Santana, and I never will. That song…” he sighed, rubbing his face. “That was to Kurt. I couldn’t sing it  _to_ him because of everyone else, you know? I thought it might help everyone seem more… believable. So people wouldn’t question Santana. Or Kurt. Believe me, that song was for him, not her.  Today, what we said, we were teasing. She was in a bad mood because she thought you were ignoring her or something –”

 

“I was,” Brittany offered, still hugging her giant cat to her chest. To its credit, it seemed like it didn’t care the least bit. “You, too.”

 

“I don’t think Santana would ever do something like that,” Blaine continued cautiously, because he wasn’t comfortable putting words to someone else’s feelings, but he didn’t want to leave any doubt over what did or didn’t happen between him and Santana. “She really cares about you, enough to do all of this to try and protect… she wouldn’t go and throw it all away.”

 

“She loves me,” she whispered, her fingers idly stroking through the cat’s fur. “I love her.”

 

“See? You don’t have anything to worry about, especially not when it comes to me.”

 

“I wish it was easier.” Brittany looked over at him, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I hate having to hide. I wish… everything I do with Kurt, I wish I could do with her, all out in front of everyone.”

 

“You and me, I think we’re a lot alike,” Blaine said, leaning over and nudging her shoulder lightly. “Not wanting to hide, not feeling like we have to hide, but willing to do it to help someone else.”

 

“You love him.” He startled, eyes wide as they met hers. “I know you do.”

 

“I…”

 

“It’s okay,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders. “I could see it, how you look at him. It was there the first time I saw you, and even when you were mad at him for a while. You can’t really turn that kind of thing off. If it helps, I think he loves you too.”

 

Brittany had a way of saying things that made them seem so factual, so bare, like there was nothing but pure truth in her words. It was a strange talent of hers, considering that she usually seemed in a world of her own. No matter how much it usually seemed like she was daydreaming, she was observing more than anyone realized. Maybe it was because she looked at the world in a different way than anyone else he’d ever known, but she could  _see_ things – even something Blaine hadn’t even admitted fully to himself.

 

He left her house feeling a mixture of emotions – he felt better about everything regarding Brittany, but torn as far as Kurt was concerned. Because he  _did_ love Kurt, and he knew it. They’d had months of getting to know each other, even though they had completely skirted every negative issue until recent weeks, and it had happened so gradually that he hadn’t even noticed. He could only hope that Brittany wasn’t completely inventing the fact that Kurt felt the same.

 

Not wasting any time once he got home, he dialed Santana’s number as he walked up the steps to his room, hearing her familiar greeting as he crossed the threshold into his room. “Hey boyfriend.”

 

“Santana…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“ _Why_ did you kiss me?” He was fairly certain he knew, but he wanted to hear it from her.

 

“Because you’re my boyfriend and that’s what lovers do.”

 

“That’s complete bullshit. Try again.”

 

“Ooo, kitten’s got claws out today,” Santana said dryly, and he could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “Fine. I was tired of Brittany ignoring me.”

 

“So you did that to get her attention.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“San…” Blaine rubbed his face, sighing. “Don’t… ever do that again. I don’t care if you kiss me, I just don’t want it to be because you’re trying to get back at her for something. I won’t be used as a weapon in your little war of who can push the other one the furthest.”

 

“Blaine, I –”

 

“She was ignoring you because she thought we slept together. That’s why she was acting all… like that.”

 

“She  _what_?” Santana sounded startled. “Oh my  _God_ , are you serious?”

 

“No, Santana, I made that up,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes. “Of course I’m serious. She was really upset because she thought… after the song, and then she overheard us in the hall today, and I don’t think you helped matters when you kissed me.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I talked to her about it, I think everything’s cleared up, but… just don’t do that, okay? Don’t use me. I know that this whole ‘relationship’ is kind of just that, but you know what I mean.”

 

“I didn’t…” Santana paused and sighed. “I didn’t  _mean_ to use you like that.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s done, moving on.” He really didn’t want to harp on it any more than he had to. It had been such a strange afternoon. “You should go talk to her so she can hear it from you. Not that she didn’t believe me, she did, but still.”

 

“Yeah, I will.  _Oh!_  Speaking of talk, I heard an interesting little thing today.”

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“Apparently Kurt has a hickey on his hip.” Blaine froze. “Which I  _know_ didn’t come from Brittany.”

 

“She said she kept asking him to have sex with her, so maybe… he…” he started lamely, not even sure why he was trying to incriminate her. Maybe it was because he didn’t want Santana involved in his sex life, or because he felt like it was invading Kurt’s privacy, but either way he was in trouble.

 

“Nice try, Anderson.”

 

“How would you have seen it anyway? What were you doing?”

 

“I didn’t see it, I heard about it,” she replied, and it sounded like she was smirking. “Word travels fast at McKinley, haven’t you noticed? One of the guys on the team saw it when they were changing for practice, then it made it through the grapevine to the Cheerios, and I knew about your little sexy tryst not even half an hour into practice. _Just friends_ my ass.”

 

“How do you know it was me? It could have been someone else.” He smacked his forehead, because really did he want to keep trying to incriminate everyone else? First Brittany, then Kurt going off with someone else - he really just needed to stop. “Forget I said that. Just… fine. Not just friends.”

 

“Knew it.”

 

“Nothing had happened since before school, not until this past weekend,” he hurried on, though he still wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to explain himself. To Santana, of all people. “You can’t tell anyone.”

 

“No shit,” she shot back, huffing out an annoyed sigh. “Who would I tell? Do the words mutually assured destruction mean anything to you?”

 

“Sorry, I just… ever since getting to your stupid school I’ve had to be so careful, and I know it doesn’t hurt anything for  _you_ to know about stuff but it just seemed neater for no one to know. I mean, not even back at Dalton – only my roommate knew about Kurt. Everyone else might have guessed, but Wes was the only one that  _knew_. It helped that it was summer term so there weren’t as many people there as usual but still. I hate secrets, and this is why.”

 

“Blaine, it’s okay,” Santana said, a soothing tone to her voice that he wasn’t used to hearing. “I was just teasing; you know that’s how I work. It’s not like anyone thinks it was someone other than Brittany. Hell, if she’d been at practice she probably would have owned up to it without missing a beat.” She paused, almost like she wasn’t sure if she should say anything else. “I knew there was something between you guys.”

 

“ _Congratulations_.”

 

“No, I don’t mean it like that, I just mean… you’re a good guy. You’re a really good guy, but I don’t think you would have agreed to do this –  _be this_ – for me unless you had an extra reason. That first day, I saw that look on your face. It wouldn’t have been there if you hadn’t already known Kurt.  _Really_ known him.”

 

“Can I ask you something?” Blaine asked after a long moment of silence passed between them. He knew he’d be forever grateful for Santana approaching him that first day, though he knew the way she’d gone about it had him convinced there was no way he would be, but he’d never expected her to have actually been so aware.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Why do you do it? Hide, I mean.”

 

“Really, Blaine? You were there when that neanderthal called me a dyke and you can’t figure it out?”

 

“Well, I didn’t know if there was some other reason. I was just curious.”

 

“McKinley is like a breeding ground for ignorant jackasses. The last thing I need in my life is them having ammo against me. You’re welcome, by the way. Dating me is probably the one thing that’s kept you from getting dumpster tossed or slushied by now. New kids are easy targets.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Blaine said, almost under his breath.

 

“I’m not. Listen, I’ve got to go, my abuela is here for dinner. Catch you later.”

 

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening after she hung up, and he dropped the phone on his bed. Santana was right—they all had to be in it together or they were all done for. That was the problem, though, because he hadn’t realized just how deep they were all going to get. What was worse was that the entire reason it was happening was because the school had instilled such a fear – and that was what bothered him most.


	9. Chapter Eight

Blaine got to school early the next day, and went straight to the guidance counselor’s office. He knocked on the door and bit his lip when he heard a squeak and the sound of something hitting the floor.

 

“Come in!” she called out, and he opened the door to see her carefully picking up a tray of pamphlets that had scattered all around her desk. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

 

“I didn’t mean to, um, startle you?” he said, kneeling down and gathering up what had fallen further away from her. “I know it’s early and there’s not really anyone here, I just…”

 

“No, of course, it’s fine.” She straightened up in her seat and offered him a smile, albeit slightly timid looking, and he set the pamphlets down on her desk before sitting across from her. “You’re Blaine, right? Blaine Anderson who transferred from Dalton Academy?”

 

“That’s me,” Blaine said with a slight grin, carefully setting his bag down next to the chair. “It’s… Miss Pillsbury, right?”

 

“That’s me,” she echoed cheerfully, seeming much more in sorts than she had been when he’d entered the office. “You’re adjusting well to being here? I know it’s a bit different than Dalton, but your classes are going well, I hope.”

 

“Classes are fine, nothing too bad,” he began, biting at the inside of his lip. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about something that wasn’t class related.”

 

“Of course,” Miss Pillsbury said with a nod, idly nudging the pamphlets back into neat stacks.

 

“This is all… confidential, right? I mean, you can’t tell anyone what I say.”

 

“If this is something serious… yes, it’s confidential, but if it’s something life threatening then I have an obligation –”

 

“It’s not,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to make sure, because it’s not about me. Well, not  _really_ about me. I don’t even know if I should say anything because it’s not like I’m the one who is dealing with it. I mean, I kind of am, but not really.”

 

“Blaine,” she said calmly, hands folded in front of her on top of her desk. “If you felt like something was important enough to come and talk to me, you probably  _should_ be here. It doesn’t have to be about you – there’s nothing wrong with being an advocate for someone who doesn’t feel like they have a voice.”

 

“This school is a horrible environment for gay students,” he blurted out, before he could form the words into an eloquent sentence that didn’t seem to attack the entire school and system at once.  _Smooth, Anderson._  Her eyes widened, somehow more than they had been already, and he took in a deep breath. “Sorry, what I mean is, this school doesn’t foster an environment where students feel safe being themselves out in the open.”

 

“Are you…” she started, then seemed to change thoughts as her voice lowered. “Have you been threatened?”

 

“No, I haven’t, and I haven’t heard of anything like that but I know some people who are very obviously scared about the possibility of anyone finding out about them. It’s always related to the other students here, what the reaction from them would be, and what  _might_ happen if they knew. And I’m not saying that they  _want_ to come out, because I honestly have no idea and it really doesn’t matter if they do or not. It  _shouldn’t_  matter. If they did want to, it shouldn’t be an issue, they shouldn’t have to worry about it, but they  _do_ worry. They worry every single minute they’re here.”

 

“We’ve never had reported instances of bullying for cases like that,” Miss Pillsbury said softly, her eyes never wavering from his. “That’s not to say that it doesn’t happen, of course, but it’s never been brought to our attention. Of course we don’t allow bullying—”

 

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily true,” Blaine interrupted, and closed his eyes for a moment to try and instill some manners back into himself. “Sorry, I just, again, nothing has  _happened_ to me but I’ve heard enough to know that I don’t think you’re seeing everything. Maybe it’s because Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for bullying and I got used to it, but last night someone told me that because I’m new here this year, the only thing that’s kept me from getting thrown in a dumpster or had a slushy tossed in my face is the fact that I’m dating a cheerleader.”

 

Miss Pillsbury stared at him with those wide, unblinking eyes of hers. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but it had all come tumbling out anyway. He’d never felt scared to be himself before – there hadn’t been any kind of warning before the Sadie Hawkins Dance and then he’d gone to Dalton straight after – but McKinley was almost pushing him to that point. There hadn’t been any threat toward him, no ill spoken words, but he knew there were reasons for that.

 

“Do you know of specific instances of these things happening?” she asked, her tone still patient and gentle. “Accusations are just that without proof.”

 

“No, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head. He’d known that question was coming, and it had been one of the only reasons he’s hesitated to go in and talk to her. He was sure that if he’d been paying attention, hadn’t been so wrapped up in Kurt and everything circling around him with Brittany and Santana and the most ridiculous not-actually-a-love-triangle he could have ever imagined, he would have seen something. “Not the physical anything. I mean, I did hear a someone getting called a slur, but…”

 

“Well then, we’ll start with that,” Miss Pillsbury said with a curt nod. “It’s just very difficult to try and do something when there’s no evidence or proof of what’s going on. I’ll talk to Principal Figgins about keeping the teachers more aware, maybe having someone in the halls between classes to keep an eye on things. I don’t want you to think that I’m brushing this off, because I take this sort of thing very seriously. I’ll do what I can with what you’ve told me, and we’ll go from there.”

 

“Thank you,” he murmured, scrubbing his hand over his face before reaching down for his bag.

 

“Blaine?”

 

“Yeah?” Blaine’s hand tightened on the strap of his bag as he looked up at her.

 

“The… the people you know, who don’t feel safe,” she started carefully, pausing and glancing down at the pamphlets in front of her for a brief moment before meeting his eyes again. “I hope that they know that they’re always welcome to come and talk to me – that nothing they say here in this office leaves these walls.”

 

“I’ll make sure to mention it. Thanks.”

 

Saying that he would say something was different than actually being able to do it. Blaine knew that he wasn’t that in tune with everything going on at McKinley, and a big part of him was hesitant to mention talking to Miss Pillsbury to Santana or Kurt. What right did he have to do that? He was an outsider, new to the environment they’d been in for years, so shouldn’t one of them have brought it to the school’s attention?

 

Except he knew that sometimes being so involved in the situation could make it difficult to do just that.

 

“You look out of sorts.” Blaine glanced over from his locker, taking in Kurt standing there beside him. It was unfair, really, how he still could look so stunning when he was trying so hard to fade into the background. Plus, Blaine couldn’t help but think about what Brittany had said the day prior.  _If it helps, I think he loves you too._ Reaching in for a book, Blaine looked away and bit at the inside of his lip. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I just had a meeting with Miss Pillsbury.”

 

“Oh.” Kurt brow furrowed as he studied him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind.” Thankfully, Kurt knew better than to push when Blaine was trying to avoid talking about something.

 

“Thanks for talking to Brittany, by the way,” Kurt said quietly, hugging his notebooks to his chest. “She called me last night to tell me about it. I’d tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I think it helped having someone who was ‘involved’ set the record straight.”

 

“No problem,” Blaine said, shutting his locker and looking up at Kurt. He was going to say something about how it was strange to have someone like Brittany mad at him, but he figured that was implied by the fact that it had been _Brittany_ and she had been  _mad_ at him. She was a person he couldn’t ever imagine being genuinely mad at anyone; she was just so sweet and eager to please. Except that thought reminded him of what Santana had said the night before. “Oh, I’m sorry about, um…”

 

“Sorry about what?” Kurt raised an eyebrow, looking confused.

 

“Someone told me they saw something,” Blaine started softly, slowly, trying to choose words that wouldn’t completely give everything away in case anyone was listening. Then again, the hallway was bustling with people and noise as everyone tried to get their things and get to their classes – it wasn’t likely anyone was paying attention to them. “Yesterday in the locker room.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Kurt said, his eyes widening with realization. “That was, uh, awkward. It’s okay, I mean, I’m pretty sure it all worked out. Brittany and all…”

 

“Right.” Blaine startled as he felt arms slip around him from behind, but he relaxed almost instantly because it was the familiar weight of Santana pressed up against his back.

 

“Hey stranger,” she whispered up next to his ear before releasing him from her hold and sidling up beside him. “You got here early.”

 

“Yeah, I had some stuff,” Blaine offered with a shrug, barely even noticing their fingers lacing together. It was almost frightening how used to that sort of thing he’d become, though he wished he could have that with Kurt. He glanced over at the other boy, bringing his free hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Hey, if you and Brit don’t have any lunch plans, we should all grab something together.”

 

“Yeah definitely, we’ll meet you guys out in the parking lot.”

 

Kurt insisted on driving at lunch, claiming that his car fit four people much better than anyone else’s. No one could really argue with that – his SUV was huge – and Blaine was more than happy to not have to deal with Santana’s reckless driving for once. He always offered to drive, and she always refused to let him. It seemed like a silly thing to argue about considering that she hadn’t  _actually_ killed anyone behind the wheel of a car.  _Yet_ , Blaine always reminded himself as he clung to the armrest and silently thanked the inventor of seatbelts.

 

They went to the Lima Bean – not exactly the most convenient place for lunch but easily the most comfortable. There were limited options for food, but it wasn’t like any of them were bound to go hungry. Sandwiches and muffins were acquired, and Kurt and Blaine had exchanged a  _look_ but no words when Brittany started talking about how much she loved muffins, and they found a table off to the side where they could eat and not be bothered. That was perfect, since Blaine had thought all morning about how he wanted to talk to them about his meeting with Miss Pillsbury, but he didn’t exactly want to do it in front of anyone else.

 

“So, I saw Miss Pillsbury this morning,” he began, mostly to Brittany and Santana because Kurt already knew. He took a bite of his sandwich, ignoring their raised eyebrows. Well, Brittany mostly just looked concerned. “I talked to her about the, um, bullying situation.”

 

“You  _what?_ ” Kurt asked, turning to look at him.

 

“I didn’t give any names, didn’t say anything, I just wanted to bring it to her attention because clearly none of the teachers or staff have any clue that it’s going on,” Blaine hurried onward, keeping his tone quiet just in case. “I thought maybe an outsider’s perspective, a fresh pair of eyes, was a helpful point of view. No one should have to feel afraid of being themselves, and the school really should be paying more attention, so I told her about all that. Not…  _us_ , but just the everything else.”

 

“I think that was a good idea,” Brittany piped up, offering him a smile. “I don’t like when people are mean, so they should know what people are doing.” Blaine was glad for her support, but then again he knew that she was right there with him as far as most things went.

 

“She said to tell you guys – not that she knew  _who_ – that if you ever need to talk, she’s there and everything said in her office stays there,” he added, his gaze flitting back and forth between Santana and Kurt. “I did what I could, but I didn’t exactly have any proof or experiences to lend to her as examples. Not saying that you should have to go and tell her anything, just… she’s there. If you want to talk or anything like that she’s willing to listen, and she’s nice.” He hesitated, and then continued quietly. “If there’s something that happened…”  
  
“This isn’t the time or place,” Kurt interrupted, his posture stiffened.

 

“Even if I did go and talk to her, I doubt that would change anything,” Santana muttered, suddenly disinterested in her blueberry muffin. “People are dicks, that’s just how it is.”

 

“Nothing will change if we don’t do anything, that’s certain,” Blaine said carefully, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “So we can either stand back and let them get away with it, or we can refuse to be the victim and actually  _try_ to make a change in the world. Or in one high school in Lima, Ohio at least.”

 

“We’re just a bunch of kids.”

 

“So are they,” he countered, squeezing her fingers. “Sometimes all it takes is a voice, Santana. One voice that grows into many.”

 

“We’ll see,” Kurt said, finally doing something other than dissecting his sandwich, like he had been doing since he first questioned what Blaine had done. That seemed to dismiss the topic for everyone and they ate in near silence until they headed back to the school. Blaine knew better than to try and push anything, because if they were going to do it, it would be at their own pace, but part of him wanted to ask if Kurt or Santana were actually considering it.

 

He hoped they were.


	10. Chapter Nine

It wasn’t like Blaine had expected things to change quickly, instantly, as if everything bad had been sucked from the halls of McKinley and his friends were free from the shackles that had been put on them by themselves and others. He knew better than that. Things took time, and that was even with the assumption that Kurt and Santana were trying. He didn’t ask, they didn’t say, and he just had to hope.

 

Kurt still spoke to him, cautious but at least there, when they were at school. He kept a careful distance, but he wasn't avoiding him. Sometimes he would come over, but it was different than it had been at Dalton. It wasn’t an impassioned time spent before Kurt had to sneak out the side door and head back home. It was more of them laying there on Blaine’s bed, side by side, arms touching at the shoulder and all the way down to where their hands were intertwined.

 

Behind the closed door of his room, Blaine felt like he had a private sanctuary that was just for him and Kurt. He could see the tension leave Kurt’s body when he crossed the threshold, see the change in his expression because Kurt knew he was safe there and didn’t have any cause or reason to be scared. It was quiet and it was just for them. Blaine hated that they didn’t have more, that Kurt never seemed as relaxed anywhere else, that he didn’t know how long that was going to be all they had. Their time together felt like eternities more than it actually was, in the best possible way, but he couldn’t completely push away the thought that all they had was one room and hours at a time and he didn’t know if or when they would ever have more.

 

There was the passing thought that maybe they never would, and Blaine did everything he could to keep his mind from going there, because he couldn’t stand it.

 

He could never really explain it to his parents. He’d made it perfectly clear that Kurt was not his boyfriend, though he wasn’t sure if that was more or less reassuring to them considering how he and Kurt would disappear off to his room with the door closed behind them for hours. Briefly, he’d considered telling them everything. Well, not everything. There was no need for them to know about anything that had happened over the summer. But he did think about telling them everything with Santana, Kurt, Brittany, the issues at McKinley, all of it. The problem was that  he knew it would all go to hell as soon as he did that. His parents were dealing with enough, especially since his dad had just gotten a new job and was adjusting.

 

Homecoming was bittersweet. Blaine didn’t have the best feelings toward school dances, but he knew there was little chance of anything bad happening since he was there with Santana. It was the same kind of reassurance he got when he walked down the hall holding her hand. Was it what he wanted? Yes, because he wanted nothing more than to be able to have those moments and not have anyone bat an eye. It just wasn’t with  _who_ he wanted.

 

Dancing with Santana was fine, it was fun, though Blaine found it frustrating that it was perfectly normal for girls to dance together in those situations but not boys. Santana danced with Brittany – though only once, and only because Brittany practically dragged her out onto the dance floor – but there was no way Blaine would have been able to do that with Kurt. He wasn’t even sure if he would have if Kurt had been comfortable with it. As much of a brave face Blaine had on every day at school, the whole school dance scenario held nothing but bad feelings for him. They hung out near the punch and cookies, though, waiting for their dates to come back.

 

It wasn’t until the last football game of the season when Blaine felt like something might have started shifting. He hadn’t gone to any games, despite Santana telling him that he should because the majority of the football team was just plain  _awful_ and he would probably enjoy hing their train wreck out on the field. They couldn’t have been that bad, considering they had a winning season, but he just hadn’t felt like going. There was something strange about the thought of watching Kurt curl up into himself and put on that uniform. But most of the other guys in the glee club were on the team too, and that was how he’d been convinced to go.

 

He’d invited his dad, but considering how late he’d been at the office all nights that week, he’d been looking forward to having a quiet night at home. That might have been for the best, Blaine thought in hindsight, because if Santana were to come over he really didn’t want to have to explain to his dad why his gay son had a girlfriend. So he just got himself bundled up, thick knit scarf and hat on with his wool pea coat, prepared for the chilled end-of-October night, and went to the stadium by himself.

 

The bleachers were slightly rickety, and Blaine made his way into the general admission section with the rest of the crowd and found himself cramped into the middle of a row of mostly adults. It made sense, he supposed, for most of the people there to be grown-ups. After all, they were bound to be parents of someone on the team, in the marching band, or on the Cheerios. Just before the game started, he saw that most of the student spectators were all gathered together down at the other end of the stands – but it was too late and too much hassle to move.

 

The thing of it was that Blaine  _liked_ football. He’d grown up watching it with his dad and brother and he’d always enjoyed the sport. At least he had, until the association of football with Kurt’s charade had put a bad taste in his mouth. The thought of the idiots that made up the majority of the team there at McKinley was enough to put him off it, but then there was Kurt, and Kurt was someone he was more than willing to support.

 

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one more than happy to support Kurt.

 

Santana had been partially right about the train wreck on the field. There wasn’t much consistency - some downs were easy and some were frustratingly impossible, and Blaine couldn’t really keep from yelling out at the players on the field. It felt nice to be able to yell at them, but instead of what he’d much rather yell at them on any given day it was more along the lines of, “PASS THE BALL, YOU IDIOT! IT’S YOUR OWN FAULT YOU GOT SACKED!”

 

Yelling felt really good. Blaine almost forgot that Kurt was standing on the sideline, also partially due to the fact that he was so much smaller than everyone else and got blocked from view fairly easily, until the time came for him to punt and he went trotting out onto the field. Blaine took in a sharp breath, remembering the time that Kurt had come over after a game, all bruised and stiff from being tackled. The linemen hadn’t exactly been doing a good job at blocking, and he really hoped that Kurt made it through the game unscathed.

 

“Come on, Kurt,” he said under his breath, pulling his hands out of his coat pockets and twining them into the ends of his scarf. He shifted his weight, pushing up onto his toes a little to get a better view. “Come on…”

 

The ball went through the uprights and Blaine jumped, whooping, his fist pumping up into the air. He cut off when he felt a hand wrap around his other arm, but a glance at the man beside him clearly showed that he was just excited and had grabbed onto both people on either side of him. It only took a few seconds for him to realize what he was doing, and he released Blaine’s arm and patted him on the shoulder lightly.

 

“Sorry about that, buddy.”

 

“It’s okay,” Blaine said, shaking his head and straightening out his sleeve a little from how it’d gotten twisted. “That was a pretty good field goal.”

 

“That’s my kid,” the man said proudly, and Blaine froze.

 

“Your… kid. Kurt?” He couldn’t really stop staring up at him, trying to see any kind of resemblance. Maybe he hadn’t been talking about Kurt, that was always possible. There was no way that he had ended up at a football game standing next to  _Kurt’s dad_ of all people.

 

“Yup, Kurt. Never really saw him getting on the team when he was little, but he’s a damn good kicker.” Blaine struggled to think about whether or not Kurt had talked about his dad, said anything about him. A  _name_ would have been helpful. “You know Kurt?”

 

“I do, yes, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine replied, trying to shove every way he  _knew_ Kurt out of his head. “We’re in glee club together. I’m Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

 

“Call me Burt,” he said, waving his hand as if dismissing the formal title. “Oh, so  _you’re_ Blaine.”

 

“Yes?” He hadn’t meant it to come out as a question; he just hadn’t expected Kurt to have mentioned him to his dad. What could he have possibly told him? His hands shoved back into his pockets and he bit the inside of his lip.

 

“You’re from that fancy school, right? Kurt said something about that, but I guess that explains why he got you to tutor him. He’s never had trouble with his grades before but I guess that happens when you’ve got so much on your plate. That girlfriend of his probably doesn’t help much. She’s a sweetheart but doesn't exactly have a whole lot going on upstairs. Heck, she might need your help more than Kurt does.”

 

Blaine just stared up at Burt the entire time he was talking, unable to figure out how he was supposed to respond considering he had no idea he was supposedly tutoring Kurt. So far as he knew, Kurt was doing fine in all his classes. They did their homework together when Kurt came over to his house, but it wasn’t like they were  _working_ together – more so that they were sitting in the same room working individually. What was he supposed to say?  _I don’t tutor your son. Mostly he just comes over to hang, but sometimes we make out and do some other stuff too._ No.

 

“I went to Dalton,” he said with a nod, figuring that was a good neutral place to start. “Brittany… she’s smart in her own way, I just don’t think it has much to do with school related things.” He didn’t think that Burt had meant anything by what he’d said about her, but Blaine couldn’t bring himself to say remotely bad about Brittany.

 

“Smart in her own way – that’s a good way to put it,” Burt agreed, and cheering from the crowd around them drew their attention back to the game.

 

Blaine still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that he was standing there at a football game, making small talk with Kurt’s dad. Kurt had always been so protective of his family and home life, just like he was about mostly everything. He rarely if ever mentioned anything about it, about him, and Blaine never asked because he knew better than to push. He’d never imagined that Kurt would have said anything to his dad about him, and even less that he would have created some story about being tutored.

 

It was the little things in Burt that reminded Blaine of Kurt. He was certain that he’d gotten most of his features from his mother, but Kurt definitely had the same smile as his dad. Their eyes were the same – not necessarily in color, because Blaine was fairly confident that no one in the world could possibly have the same color eyes as Kurt, but in how he could tell there was so much more in them. Saying that the eyes were the window to the soul was clichéd and overdone, but Blaine believed it when it came to the Hummels.

 

He could also see him in how easy it was to talk to Burt. Conversation flowed between them the entire game, pausing for the occasional outburst because the team as a whole had messed something up again, or to cheer because for once they’d manage to do something right. Blaine was shocked that any touchdowns were made by their team at all, but somehow they managed. It was a field goal by Kurt that ended up winning the game for him, and Burt gave him a side-hug in celebration. Blaine didn’t even know how to respond or react to that.

 

Getting out of the stadium was a hassle, because even though it hadn’t seemed like there were that many people there, it was crazy once everyone was trying to squeeze through down the same stairs and along the walkways to get off the bleachers. Burt had asked if his parents were picking him up, but Blaine assured him that he’d driven himself so he wasn’t going to have to wait for his parents to fight through the traffic to get to him like salmon swimming upstream. They got down to the field level right as the players started coming out of the locker room, and Kurt ducked his way through the crowd to get to his dad.

 

“Great game, bud!” Burt said, wrapping him up in a hug and giving him a few pats on the back. “I don’t know what they’d do without you. Hey, I met your friend Blaine here up in the stands. He kept me company.” Kurt clearly hadn’t seen Blaine standing there until that moment, and his eyes widened at his dad’s words as his gaze swung away from his dad and over to him. There was a brief flicker of panic, but Blaine just offered him a little smile.

 

“We just happened to end up next to each other,” he offered with a shrug, hoping that Kurt understood that he hadn’t done it on purpose. “You were really good, though. They owe you a lot, winning that game for them.”

 

“It was a team effort,” Kurt said diplomatically, and Blaine rolled his eyes.

 

“We all know that’s not true,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “But it’s good of you to say.” He hesitated, then rocked back on his heels. “I should head home, tell my parents how it all went. Burt, thanks for the good conversations.” He held out his hand, and felt incredibly grateful when Burt shook it. “I’ll see you Monday, Kurt.”

 

“Monday,” Kurt repeated with a nod, and Blaine gave them both a smile before pulling his collar up and heading out the gates and toward the parking lot. He felt like he’d been holding in a lot of energy, not taking in full breaths or letting them all the way out, ever since he’d realized who Burt was. He’d just spent hours with Kurt’s dad – hours with the father of the one person he wanted and couldn’t have. The one person he  _had_ had, time and time again before the summer had ended.

 

By the time he got home, he had half dozen texts from Kurt.

 

_WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!_

 

_I’m not mad. Sorry, I didn’t mean to… text-shout at you._

 

_My DAD, Blaine. That was my DAD._

 

_Oh hell, what did he say? What did you say? What were you talking about?_

 

_I can’t believe you actually came to a game._

 

_Blaine._

 

Blaine fought with himself over how to reply as he sat in his car in the driveway, and he made himself take the time to get in out of the cold. He hadn’t realized just how cold he was until he was inside, and he shed his layers and slipped into his pajamas and under the covers of his bed before looking at his phone again. Kurt hadn’t texted anymore, but then again maybe he realized that Blaine had been driving and that was why he hadn’t been responding.

 

**Why don’t you come over tomorrow and I’ll tell you about it? I’m sure you could use some tutoring.**

 

The response came quickly, almost immediately, and he laughed lightly before shoving his phone onto the nightstand by his bed before rolling over to go to sleep.

 

_Only if you wear your little school boy outfit. I miss the blazer. Also, I’ll be there._

  
***  
  
Blaine managed to get all his homework done before Kurt got there the next day, though neither of them had really put forward a time to meet up. It was easily mid-afternoon when there was a knock at the door, and Kurt on the other side holding two cups of coffee – a mocha for himself and a regular drip for Blaine. It was definitely welcome, as was Kurt, and they made the familiar trip up the stairs to Blaine’s room and settled in.

 

Kurt almost always stretched out on Blaine’s bed, boots unlaced and neatly placed next to the nightstand, pillows propped up against the headboard to provide some sort of cushioning against the hard wood surface, and legs sprawled out in front of him. It was his normal seat, and that was where he went – though he carefully set his coffee on the nightstand to keep from accidentally spilling it as he climbed onto the bed. Blaine just sat beside him, legs folded up beneath him, his knees almost brushing against Kurt’s legs as he settled in.

 

“So…”

 

“Your dad’s really nice,” Blaine started, taking a sip of his coffee and holding the cup between his hands as he looked up at Kurt. “It really was just a coincidence, I didn’t mean to stand by him. I didn’t even know who he was until your first kick and then it just kind of… happened. I didn’t say anything to him about, well, anything. Just that we were in glee club together.”

 

“Blaine, it’s fine,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “He said he liked you, that you were very… proper. I think he’s glad that I’m hanging out with you instead of guys from the football team.”

 

“Even if I’m just tutoring you?”

 

Kurt stopped at that, pursing his lips and reaching over for his mocha. “I’m sorry about that.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Kurt.”

 

“No, I do. I hate lying, I  _hate_ it, especially when it’s to my dad. I just didn’t know what to tell him, about where I was going.” Kurt hesitated, taking a long drink. “Telling him I was coming to be with you… he’s met all my friends before. He probably would have wanted to meet you, just to give him some peace of mind since you were new at school and all, and the thought of that just  _scared_ me. Because you’re not  _just_ a friend.”

 

Blaine blinked a little at that, his gaze not shifting up from where it had settled on his coffee cup. They’d had months together, both  _actually_ together over the summer and not, separated by the stupidity of the school around them. Despite all that time, their friendship had only ever been called just that. No other labels, insinuations, commitments, just friends. Blaine wanted it to be more, but everything had turned so complicated so quickly and just gone from there. Kurt had never given an indication, not until just then, and his heartbeat had quickened as soon as the words had registered.

 

“I’ve been trying,” Kurt continued quietly, and Blaine glanced up at him. “I know I never said, but I…  _have_ been going to see Miss Pillsbury.”

 

“You have?”

 

“Yes,” he said, his eyes flitting up to meet Blaine’s. “It helps, being able to talk to someone that isn’t involved. It’s not like I could talk to my dad about it, I’d have to come out to him first. She’s a good neutral party, and she can’t tell anyone what I say so it works.”

 

“What do you, um, talk to her about?” Blaine asked, tilting his head. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to tell me, I just –”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Kurt said, shrugging. “Kind of everything. About how I feel, which sounds really stupid to say but that’s a lot of it. Talking to her has made me realize that I’m usually not that honest about how I feel, not with myself or anyone else.” He paused and then spoke slowly, as if he was picking his words out carefully. “So I’m trying to get better at that, and you’re a good place to start.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine said with a nod, reaching over and squeezing his hand lightly, trying to ignore how hard his heart seemed to be pounding against his ribcage.

 

“Okay,” Kurt repeated, taking another sip of his mocha before setting it back on the nightstand and taking Blaine’s hand between his. “You are probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you back in June. You’ve made me feel more comfortable with myself, with who I am as a whole, and you make me want to be a better person. I would have been fine just keeping in the background and shadows until I graduated but then you came along and I don’t want that anymore.

 

“Pretending my way through high school seemed like such a good plan, but talking to Miss Pillsbury has made me realize that I didn’t have a clue of how to stop once it was done. It’s not like graduation would be some magical day and all of a sudden everything would be fine. My graduating from high school doesn’t change what’s in my head, and it won’t change how other people think. I want to be able to be myself, and I have no idea how to do that, how to start. It’s been years of lying and hiding and I don’t know how to stop.”

 

“I think you’ve made a good start,” Blaine said softly, nodding. “Saying things out loud, that’s difficult in itself. You just said a lot of things to me that I don’t think you would have been able to say a few weeks ago, and that’s kind of the first step, isn’t it? Being able to admit something to yourself, and then someone else. I’m really proud of you for talking to her.”

 

“That’s the thing,” Kurt continued, his gaze not wavering from Blaine’s, but there was something different going on behind his eyes. “I want you to be proud of me, because you mean more to me than most of the people I’ve known for years. You know more about me than any of them, and I don’t want to have to keep lying to myself and everyone else about the fact that we’re friends and nothing else. I want  _you_ , and to be able to walk down the halls holding your hand, to be able to dance with you at prom or something. To be able to just  _be_ with you without there being any question about  _what_ exactly we are to each other.”

 

“Kurt…” He felt like his breath was catching in his throat, and he scooted in to be a little closer.

 

“I didn’t mean to freak out or anything about you talking to my dad, it just kind of hit me even more that I wanted you to meet him, to know him, because you’re important to me. I  _want_ you to be important to me.”

 

“I want all that too, everything you said and more because  _you_ are so important to me,” Blaine said, and he couldn’t believe that they were actually saying those things. Months of never talking about anything along those lines, wants and desires, and then there it all was. “You’re an incredible person, Kurt, and I  _am_ proud of you. So proud.” Kurt leaned in and kissed him, and Blaine brought his free and up to cup the back of his neck and keep him there. It was soft, tender, and Kurt brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth when he finally did pull back.

 

“It’s not like anything’s really changed,” Kurt mumbled, letting go of Blaine’s hand and threading his fingers up into the back of his hair. “I know that.”

 

“No, it has. Kurt, it may not change how things are at school or anything like that, but it’s changed things between us because now we both  _know_ how each other feel and what we want. It’s reassuring, to know it’s not just one sided.” He pressed a quick kiss against his lips and looked into his eyes. “Everyone goes at their own pace, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.”


	11. Chapter Ten

Kurt may have said that nothing had changed, but in a way  _everything_ had changed. The knowledge that Kurt wanted him, wanted to  _be_ with him, was enough to keep Blaine in good spirits. It kept him from feeling stung when Kurt avoided him in the halls at school. It made it easy to slip into habits with Santana because when he was happy, it was easy to pretend to be happy with her. Any reassurance he needed was in the knowledge that Kurt was trying, was working on it, and they both knew the truth.

 

Neither of them expected the truth to almost come out at a glee club Thanksgiving party.

 

Really, the only thing that made it a Thanksgiving party was that it took place on the Friday night of their break, but other than that it wasn’t exactly themed. The only real theme was that Puck had managed to get a hold of a lot of alcohol and Rachel’s parents (her two dads, Blaine noted) were out of town visiting some other family, so it was essentially a free for all. Blaine wasn’t sure why he was surprised that Rachel had a stage in her basement, complete with microphones and karaoke machine, but there it was. 

 

Santana had been waiting for him out on the porch, and when he got there she practically dragged him down to the basement. Rachel had tried to pass out drink tickets to limit everyone's alcohol consumption, but she'd been the only one worried about it and was therefore easily outvoted. Blaine didn't have plans to get drunk, because that would have been a little out of his comfort zone, but he figured that a drink or two couldn't hurt. He'd been in a good mood, he was willing to be a tad adventurous, and he doubted Santana would let him get away with any less.

 

It was actually fun, being around the glee club members outside of their normal rehearsal time and the confines of the school. That was what he'd been missing the most, he realized – the camaraderie that the Warblers had. True, they'd all lived in the same place and that made it easy for them to see each other outside of classes and practices, but they had been his best friends because of it. Maybe that was one of the other things the New Directions were missing: an overall feeling of kinship between the group. If a party was going to bring them all together, so be it, as long as there was something.

 

Santana pressed a cup into one of his hands and slipped her own hand into his other one, taking a swig from her drink and giggling at the impression that Sam was doing from across the room. She'd murmured something to him on their way down that he needed to stay near her once she'd started drinking, because she tended to kiss everyone otherwise and she didn't feel like having to deal with a jealous, angry boyfriend. It had taken him a minute to realize that she'd meant  _him_ because he had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of getting angry over her kissing someone else. She did that a lot with Brittany, he was sure, so it wasn't like it was something he wasn't used to. It made sense that he rightfully shouldn't have been, though.

 

Whatever she'd made him to drink was good, if not for a slight burning sensation in the back of his throat as it went down, and the more he drank of it the more warm and relaxed he felt. He could understand why people drank, if that was how it made them feel. He felt loose, calm, and definitely more than okay with being at the party, his arm slipped around Santana's waist to keep her  ~~in~~  close as he kept a inconspicuous eye on Kurt from across the room. Brittany was clearly enjoying the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, or at least he figured she was considering how she'd been draping herself over Kurt more than usual. That was perfectly fine, though.

 

Not surprisingly, Rachel was the first one to get up on the stage and perform, singing her heart out to "Don't Rain on My Parade.” Blaine wondered how often she did that, though – performed on that stage for herself or her dads or even someone else, putting on a show and clearly enjoying every second of it. Based on how she behaved in glee club, and what he'd experienced of her in other facets of school, he would guess fairly often. She was driven, very passionate about performing, and he could only guess that she would take every opportunity she could to do so.

 

In the end, it was Santana who dragged him up on stage first. There had been a few other solos, a botched duet or two – thanks to one or both members of the duo not knowing the song as well as they thought - but Santana was insistent. "Come on, you're gonna sing most of it and I'll just come in on the bridge part, you'll be fine," she said, her eyes sparkling as she scrolled through the song choices and picked their song. "And don't even pretend like you don't know it, you sing it in my car all the time."

 

Blaine would have argued that he sang lots of songs in her car all the time, even if not all of them should really be heard by anyone, but he didn't have time thanks to the music kicking in. His gaze swept over to Santana and his eyes widened, but she just offered him a wink. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the small screen, though he didn't need any help with the words.

 

“ _This was never the way I planned, not my intention…_ ” he sang, low and almost softly into the microphone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like singing Katy Perry, because he really did, but he knew exactly what Santana was doing. Why else would she have picked "I Kissed a Girl" for him to sing? Her minimal backup vocals were enough to keep people from making insinuations about her, but he knew she’d picked it because  _him_ singing it was bound to be amusing to a very select group of people.

 

Kurt had definitely sat up a little straighter once he’d started singing, breaking out of his conversation with Finn to look up at the stage and catch Blaine’s eye. Okay, so maybe Blaine didn’t mind singing it if it was going to make the corners of Kurt’s mouth quirk up like that. He was nothing if not a performer, after all, and that meant he should give it his all. At least, that’s what he told himself as he grabbed Santana’s hand and spun her into him, making her laugh and press a kiss against his cheek. It was good he had Santana there to sing to, so he could make himself not look at Kurt as he sang “ _I kissed a girl just to try it, I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it_ …”

 

Santana’s hand slipped over his on the microphone, despite the fact that she could have used her own, their fingers overlapping as she looked up at him with a soft smirk. She tilted the microphone toward herself so she could take over, and he bit his lip with a grin. “ _Us girls we are so magical_ ,” she sang, her voice sultry as she ran her free hand up through the back of his hair and then down his chest, gripping his shirt a little in her fingers and tugging. “ _Soft skin, red lips, so kissable. Hard to resist, so touchable – too good to deny it. It’s no big deal, it’s innocent…”_

 

By the time the song was over, her fingers had twisted entirely into the front of his shirt and he was honestly concerned she might try to rip it off him. She settled for pulling him in for a kiss, which he should have been expecting but really hadn’t been. He caught the brief flicker of sadness on Kurt’s face when they pulled apart, but he knew it wasn’t really him who had caused it. It wasn’t really any of them – it was just something that happened.

 

Brittany apparently turned into a wild woman when she’d been drinking, but Kurt managed to convince her to keep her clothes on after she’d been a split second away from her shirt coming completely off. At least everyone at the party knew she was wearing a cute pink polka dot bra, but he wasn’t sure if any of them  _needed_ that knowledge. Santana looked annoyed that Kurt had put an end to it, but Blaine distracted her with another drink and it was quickly forgotten.

 

The real danger came when Santana had pulled Brittany away to get shots of tequila, and Blaine had already had at least three of whatever drink she’d been making him. Kurt made his way over and plopped down on the couch beside him, draining what was left in his cup before setting it aside. “We should sing together.”

 

“Yeah, we should!” Blaine replied enthusiastically, patting him on the shoulder lightly. He’d wanted to pat him on the leg, but he thought maybe that could have been seen badly. “I’ve wanted to sing with you ever since I heard you sing that first day at glee club auditions, or whatever those were called cause they weren’t  _really_ auditions, let’s be real—”

 

“Definitely,” Kurt said, his eyes slightly wide and unfocused thanks to whatever he’d been drinking, and he nodded. “I don’t think there’s anyone planning to go after Mercedes, so we can.”

 

“What do you want to sing?” he asked, his hand still lingering on Kurt's shoulder, but that wasn’t unusual between friends, he figured. “You choose!”

 

“Dooooo,” Kurt began, drawing out the vowel of the word as he tilted his head and thought, “you know the Neon Trees?”

 

“Hell yeah!” Blaine grinned and hopped up to his feet, a little too fast for his head because he immediately felt like it was swimming, but a few seconds of swaying on his feet later and he felt steady again. Kurt got up and they both made their way over to the stage as Mercedes belted out the last note of her song, and after a few wrong buttons being punched on the machine, they got the music to start. Kurt motioned back and forth between them trying to ask who should start as they grabbed their microphones, and Blaine raised his hand in response.

 

“ _Here we go again, I kind of want to be more than_   _friends. So take it easy on me, I’m afraid you’re never satisfied…”_

 

“ _Here we go again, we’re sick like animals we play pretend. You’re just a cannibal and I’m afraid I won’t get out alive_ …” Kurt sang back, biting his lip with a grin as they both joined in to sing “ _No I won’t sleep tonight_ ” and launch into the chorus together.

 

They traded off like that, almost as if it was practiced, and completely lost themselves in singing to each other. The rest of the party might as well have not been happening, the other people easily couldn’t have been there, for all they cared or noticed. It was definitely the alcohol’s fault that they let themselves be so loose, little touches to each other’s arms or hands, not to mention singing a song that  _clearly_ had implications. The slight silence that followed once the song ended pulled them back to reality and to the realization that they’d maybe gone a step too far.

 

Blaine hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close to Kurt, but he barely would have had to lean forward to kiss him, and he very much wanted to do just that. Except no one in the room was moving, everyone’s eyes locked on them, and he knew he’d done something wrong already and shouldn’t add to the list. The moment felt frozen, like no one knew what to do or say or how to react, and he couldn’t look away from the way Kurt’s eyelashes were fanning out over his cheeks and how his breath was falling across his lips like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. He’d seen Kurt like that so many times, usually tangled in the sheets of his bed, and he’d always gotten to kiss him then.

 

“WOOHOO!” Santana whooped, breaking the tension and drawing some attention away from them. “Blaine, get your ass down here! I want to do body shots!” She seemed to consider her words for a moment before amending herself. “Not  _off_ your ass. Other parts of you. You know what, just come here.”

 

As it turned out, Santana seemed to be perfectly fine doing body shots off almost anywhere else of him, though he tried his hardest to keep his clothes on as much as possible in the process. She’d taken great joy in undoing his bow tie and unbuttoning his polo so she could lick salt off his clavicle, and he was almost completely certain she was licking him as much as she was to help him and his image – and hers as well – recover from the song he’d sung with Kurt. There was no other reason for her to practically suck the rogue lime juice off his jaw like she did. Apparently she was aware of the giant need for damage control, and she was going to help as much as she could.

 

He wanted to leave, to go home and drink at least a few glasses of water before going to bed. Staying at the party any later would be a bad idea and he knew it, because he’d already proven himself incapable of thinking straight and making good decisions. Besides, he wanted to scrub off his skin to get rid of all the salt, lime, tequila, and saliva left over from Santana and her mouth. He was sobering up fast, or at least he was pretty sure he was, and he found Rachel to say goodbye and thank her for hosting them. Manners shouldn’t be abandoned, not even when there was alcohol involved and the hostess seemed way past tipsy herself.

 

“Dude, you okay to drive?” Mike asked him as he pulled on his coat.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Blaine replied, and promptly tripped up the stairs, catching himself before he fell completely. “Fuck.”

 

“I can take you home,” Mike offered, easily getting up from his spot on the floor. “I only had one, and it was a while ago. Figured someone should be able to drive people around, right? Besides, my dad would kill me if he knew I was drinking.” Blaine was fairly certain his parents wouldn’t be pleased, but it wasn’t like they could do much about it. Hell, how would they know he hadn’t been drinking and partying at Dalton? Probably because they trusted him not to, but he wasn’t about to feel guilty about having a few drinks at a party with his friends. Mike leaned down to say something to Tina, probably telling her where she was going because she glanced up at Blaine and nodded. “Come on, let’s hit the road.”

 

Mike’s arm was solid around his shoulders as they walked up the stairs and out to the driveway, and Blaine slid into the passenger seat of his car with a sigh. He fumbled with the seatbelt but had it buckled by the time Mike got in and started the engine, so he took that as a victory. “Can you give me directions? Or at least an address? I mean, I’ve got GPS, so…”

 

“Um, 750 Loretta Place? It’s right after the bend in the road,” Blaine said, making a curving motion with his hand. “Or before the bend, I guess, depending on how you go.”

 

“Got it,” Mike said with a nod, pulling out onto the street and heading in that direction. The radio played quietly in the background and they didn’t talk, and Blaine closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. It was a quick drive to his parents’ house, and with how the rest of the world seemed to be spinning around him it felt even shorter. Mike pulled into the driveway and parked near the walk up to the front door, and he paused with his hand on the keys in the ignition, looking over at Blaine. “You okay to get inside by yourself?”

 

“I want to say yes,” Blaine mumbled, not moving to undo his seatbelt or get out of the car. “But I thought I could walk up stairs at Rachel’s house and that didn’t work, so I doubt the stairs inside my house will be less trouble.”

 

“No problem,” Mike replied, killing the engine and getting out of the car. He opened the passenger door and Blaine frowned a little at the lack of cold against his forehead, but the crisp air of the night was quickly making up for it. His seatbelt was undone and Mike had practically hauled him up out of his seat before he realized he should probably be moving of his own volition. It wasn’t like he was incapable of that, just slightly dizzier than he had been when he’d left the party, which he chalked up to the car ride. He was glad Mike was there to help him up the sidewalk.

 

“Sorry to be so much trouble,” he murmured as they got up to the front door and he fumbled his keys out of his pocket, raising them up right in front of his eyes so he could find the right one in the dim illumination being given off by the porch light. Mike shrugged a little, indicating that it wasn’t really any trouble, but Blaine still felt like it was. He unlocked the door and let them in, blinking a few times into the darkness and pulling his phone out of his pocket to give them some way to see.

 

It struck him that Mike was the first person from McKinley who had been to his house that wasn’t Kurt. Not even Santana had, which seemed bizarre but it wasn’t like their charade extended past the McKinley and the people therein. She spent her free time with Brittany, he assumed, like he spent his with Kurt. But Mike being there was a strange moment, and thankfully Blaine had enough of his head about him to realize that he needed to tell him how to leave the house without leaving the front door deadbolt unlocked.

 

“There’s, um, there’s a key,” he said quietly, rubbing his forehead and taking a step forward, and Mike’s hand gripped his arm just above the elbow to keep him steady. “Outside, if you reach behind the numbers on the house, the seven… there’s a key stuck to the back of it with a magnet.”

 

“I’ll lock the deadbolt when I leave,” Mike whispered. “Now, where’s your room?”

 

Blaine motioned toward the stairs, and they made their way up as carefully and quietly as they could. He’d never felt clumsier in his life, but at least Mike was there to keep him from falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. He didn’t know what inspired him to do it but when Mike turned to go, Blaine wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a good friend, you know that?”

 

“Yeah,” Mike said, not sounding startled or surprised by the gesture, patting him on the back. “You’re a good guy, Blaine. You get some sleep, take some aspirin tomorrow, and I’ll see you on Monday, alright? Don’t forget to go back and get your car.”

 

“Mkay,” Blaine murmured, letting him go and crossing over to his bed after he heard the door to his room latch shut.

 

All thoughts of getting clean were abandoned when his bed was so close, and he barely even made the effort to get out of his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks, his shirt, and he almost tripped over himself as he wriggled out of his pants because they got stuck around his ankles, but eventually he was down to his boxers and crawled up into bed and under the multiple blankets piled on top of it to keep him warm. The taste of tequila and lime juice was still lingering on his lips, but if he concentrated hard enough he could imagine the taste of Kurt, as if he’d gotten to kiss him like he’d wanted to after their song. And with that thought in his head, he fell asleep.

  
***  
  
Blaine was woken up by a sharp knock on his door, and all he could manage in response was a grunt. He’d tried to make words happen, but they just plain hadn’t. The knocking had made his head feel like it was going to burst, and he buried his face in his pillow and pulled the covers up over past his head as the door swung open.

 

“Honey, where’s your car?” his mom asked, and her footsteps came close to the bed and she tugged down on the blankets. “Blaine, are you – why do you smell like a  _bar_ , Blaine?” Her tone had gone from concerned to annoyed very quickly.

 

“Car… Rachel’s,” he mumbled, motioning with his hand as if somehow pointing to Rachel’s house. “Friend drove me home.” He rolled over a little, his body feeling stiff and cramped, and he managed to open one of his eyes half-way to look up at her. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Blaine,” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re… I know this transition to your new school was kind of rough, and I’m sorry that you couldn’t stay at Dalton. You’ve seemed to be happier recently but I know it’s not been easy. I just wish you would  _talk_ to me or your father instead of –”

 

“Oh no, Mom, I didn’t – because of – no, that’s not –” Blaine stammered, not sure of which thought track to follow and just kind of blurted them all out. He shifted onto his back and rubbed his face, mentally cursing the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “ _No._  It wasn’t because I was upset or anything,” he started again slowly, taking the time to let the words form before he said them. “It was just a party at a friend’s house, that’s all. Not because of sad. Social… thing.”

 

“A friend drove you home?”

 

“Yes, Mike, he’s… glee club,” he said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaning. “He’s nice, he drove, he – he locked the door, right?” He pulled his hands away to look up at her.

 

“Mhmm, the door was locked,” she replied, her fingers stroking through his hair again. “How miserable do you feel?”

 

“Pretty miserable.”

 

“Good. Hopefully that’ll keep you from doing that again,” she said, rising up off the bed and giving him a look. “You _aren’t_ going to do this again, right?”

 

“Right. Alcohol bad,” Blaine said, wrinkling his nose and giving her two thumbs down.

 

“That’s my boy.” She smiled down at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Now get up, it’s nearly noon and you’re wasting your life away. We’ll go get your car later today, alright?”

 

“Thanks Mom,” he murmured, waiting until the door was closed behind her to roll back over and burrow further into bed. It took a good bit of effort, and a few more minutes of lying there and convincing himself to move, before he was able to get up and stumble his way into the bathroom for a ridiculously long shower that was half comprised of just standing there and the rest scrubbing at his collarbone, neck, and face. He appreciated what Santana had done, but he felt like he couldn’t get the feel of her off his skin.

 

Blaine had barely gotten out of the shower and dressed before he heard his name being called up the stairs. He ran his hand through his still-damp hair and slowly trotted down, stopping a few steps from the bottom of the staircase when he saw Kurt, Santana, and Brittany standing there with his mom. “Uh…”

 

“Well, you  _are_ grounded, which I failed to mention before,” his mom said, her hands on her hips. His friends all looked slightly bashful, though clearly better off hangover-wise than he was. “But seeing as how Kurt and these girls are already here…”

 

“Sorry, Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said quietly, his gaze flitting up to Blaine. “If you want, we can take Blaine to get his car back?”

 

“Thank you, Kurt. That would actually be very helpful. Don’t take too long, you hear?” she said, pointing up at Blaine.

 

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, and he shouldn’t have saluted, he really shouldn’t have but he still wasn’t feeling quite himself and it just kind of  _happened_. Brittany tittered from her spot next to Kurt, and his mom looked caught between annoyed and amused. He pointed up the stairs behind him, glad for a reason to escape. “I… need shoes.”

 

“I’ll help!” Brittany said cheerfully, and she trailed after him up the stairs. He didn’t have to look back to know that his mom was probably staring after them, confusion spread across her features. Brittany caught his hand when they reached the top of the stairs, and she squeezed it lightly and he led her to his room. “I’m sorry your mom is mad.”

 

“She’s not mad,” Blaine replied, shaking his head slightly. “Not  _really_. Just disappointed, I think.” He let go of her hand to sit on the edge of his bed and tug on some socks and shoes. “You okay?”

 

“Me? I’m fine,” she offered with a shrug. “You look nice with fluffy hair.”

 

“Fluffy hai—oh.” He reached up, touching his hair, and he bit his lip at the lack of product. It was going to have to do; he didn’t want to keep everyone there under the watchful eye of his mom just so he could fix his hair. “Thanks. Ready?”

 

“Ready.” He grabbed his coat and tugged it on as they headed down the stairs, and he gave his mom a quick hug before they all went out the door. Santana nudged his hip as they headed to Kurt’s car – the only one in the driveway.

 

“Want some coffee?” Kurt asked, glancing over at him as he slid into the front seat. “Lima Bean?”

 

“God, yes,” Blaine said, leaning back against the seat as he buckled in.

 

Kurt drove them there quickly, and Blaine and Brittany claimed a table for them while he and Santana got their drinks. Coffee sounded like the best thing Blaine had ever heard of, and he welcomed it with both hands when Kurt held it out to him, sliding into the seat across from him. Santana rested her head against Blaine's shoulder briefly before brushing her fingertips along his jaw.

 

“Sorry about all that,” she said, prodding her fingers along his collarbone. He winced, swatting her hand away from the hickey she’d left. It was covered by his shirt, she’d jabbed him with her fingernail.

 

“Lemme alone,” he mumbled, nudging her off his shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at him and he took a sip of coffee, humming at the heat and taste as he swallowed. “So, um, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Kurt murmured, his hands wrapping tightly around his coffee cup. “I shouldn’t have suggested – we shouldn’t have – I had one too many, I think, and I messed it all up.”

 

“Hey, no,” Blaine said, and he stopped himself just short of reaching over and taking Kurt’s hand. “It’s not like you got up there and sang by yourself, I was right beside you. I could have said no, picked a different song, any of it. We were both kind of drunk but everyone else had been drinking too so maybe they’ll have forgotten or assumed that they imagined stuff. If we don’t act like anything weird happened, maybe they won’t remember that it did.”

 

“It wasn’t weird,” Brittany chimed in, slurping from her hot chocolate. “I thought it was good!”

 

“Well no, it wasn’t weird, I meant…” Blaine trailed off, glancing between the other three. “You know what I meant.”

 

“No, I do,” Kurt said with a nod. “I hope you’re right. Maybe we’re imagining how things went, putting the worst case scenarios in our heads as truth. We were all, you know—”

 

“Drunk,” Santana supplied helpfully.

 

“Yes.” Kurt gave her a look, and then shook his head. “Let’s just hope you’re right.”

 

“Not that I really want to go back, but we should probably get my car before I get grounded even more,” Blaine said, taking another drink of his coffee. “Considering I don’t even know how long I’m grounded currently, and my mom wasn’t  _actually_ that mad yet, I don’t want to risk it.”

 

As much as he wanted to kiss Kurt before he got out of his Navigator, especially considering that he didn’t know when he was going to see him outside of school again, he couldn’t. Not there in front of Rachel’s house when everything was already kind of on edge. He settled for a squeeze of their hands, and he gave Santana and Brittany a little wave before he got into his own car and headed home. He might have been grounded, and concerned about school the following Monday, but he had to believe that they would be alright – for all of their sakes.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Blaine couldn't tell one way or the other if the rest of the glee club remembered or was aware of what had happened at Rachel’s party after he and Kurt had taken the stage together. He wasn’t sure if the glances he got were just because of him making a general fool of himself at the party or because of their duet. At that point, he didn’t think that his duet with Santana had helped matters, even though it had happened first.

 

Kurt seemed nervous, though obviously less so when Brittany was around. There was that reassurance of protection, again, and Blaine knew he himself breathed a little easier when he had Santana. There was something intensely grounding of having her hand in his. She was like a shield being held in front of him to protect him from looks, words, anything that could possibly be thrown his way.

 

Puck was the only one who really unnerved him, but then again maybe it was because he was the only one who actually came right up to him. It was almost like an ambush, there at his locker toward the end of the day, when a hand clapped down on his shoulder and made him jump as his head whipped up to see who it was. “Puck! You scared me, man.”

 

“Sorry bro,” he offered with an unapologetic shrug, and Blaine shoved his books in his locker as he tried to get his heart to stop racing quite so fast. “So, fun party, yeah?”

 

“Yes, it was fun,” Blaine agreed with a nod, pausing before shifting his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and shutting the door to his locker. “I’ve never really done anything like that before. It was cool to get to hang out with everybody outside of all this, you know?” He gestured around the hallway, meaning school in general, and he was certain Puck knew what he meant.

 

“Yeah, it was kind of eye opening,” Puck said, leaning up against the wall and glancing around at the people passing them in the hall before turning his gaze back onto Blaine. “Got to see all kinds of sides to people that I didn’t know were there. True colors, all that.”

 

“Alcohol kind of makes people a little crazy,” Blaine said carefully, glancing over his shoulder in the direction Santana usually came from around that time to meet up with him before glee club. There was the familiar swish of red that came with the skirt of her cheerleading uniform, and he held onto the strap of his bag tightly, waiting and hoping she didn’t get sidetracked. “My parents weren’t too thrilled, but it didn’t end up too badly.”

 

“I saw Mike took you home.”

 

“He did, that was good,” he said with a nod, reaching out and grabbing Santana’s hand when she got close enough. “He’s a good guy.”

 

“Who’s a good guy?” Santana asked, lacing her fingers with his and smacking Puck in the chest with her free hand. “Not this one, clearly.”

 

“Mike,” Blaine clarified, brushing a light kiss against her temple.

 

“Oh yes, Mike’s good.” She nodded and tugged on his hand. “Come on, glee time.” Blaine gave Puck a shrug and turned to head down the hall with her, letting out a breath as they turned the corner. “What?”

 

“Just… something Puck said,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Makes me kind of worried.”

 

“Puck’s an idiot,” she said quickly, looking up at him. “I’m sure he doesn’t, um, know anything. He was drunk, don’t worry about it.”

 

Blaine wasn’t sure how much she believed of what she was saying and how much she was saying to try and make him feel better, but it didn’t matter. They slid into their usual seats in the choir room and he rubbed at the back of her hand with his thumb, needing some outlet for his nerves. She crossed her legs toward him, leaning in and pressing against his side as the rest of the glee club trickled in until just before the bell rang and they were all there.

 

“I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving break, but we need to get right back into the swing of things,” Mr. Schue announced as he came into the room and nudged the door closed behind him. “I know we’ve focused a lot on different messages, different themes, but this week we’re going to do something a little different. We’ve been focused too much on the individual, but this is a group. We all need to learn to work together, to trust each other, and that all starts on a one-on-one basis.”

 

“Mr. Schue,” Rachel interrupted, her hand shooting into the air. “I think you’ll find that we trust each other, though should we not I could almost guarantee there would be a  _very_ good explanation—”

 

“Trusting each other as friends, as classmates, that’s not the same as trusting each other as partners,” he replied easily, and Rachel dropped her hand down into her lap. “That’s why we’re going to be doing duets this week, and you’re not choosing your own partners.”

 

“Then who is?” Finn asked, his brow furrowing.

 

“Fate.” Mr. Schue pulled a hat out from behind his back and held it down so they could see all the slips of paper inside. “I’ll draw out names and you’ll be paired off that way. No arguments about partners – if you get paired with someone you wouldn’t normally want to sing with, well that’s the whole point here. Stretch outside your comfort zone and own it.”

 

Names were pulled out of the hat one at a time, paired off in the order they were called. Brittany was going to sing with Tina – both girls made noises of excitement, Mercedes with Artie – high fives were exchanged, Sugar and Sam – she squealed and he gave a slight nod, Quinn with Mike – shrugs and smiles from both of them, Rachel with Puck – “Jew power,” exclaimed Puck as he pumped his fist into the air, and Rachel just looked appalled. Blaine’s grip on Santana’s hand tightened as each name was called, a pit forming in his stomach as each duo was paired off and his name wasn’t involved in any of them. Neither was she, so maybe they’d luck out.

 

“Finn and…” Mr. Shue grabbed out a second piece of paper and unfolded it one-handed. “Santana!”

 

Blaine was starting to feel like he had absolutely no luck left in his life at all.

 

“Who does that leave? Kurt and Blaine? So you two will be paired up, too.” All the slips of paper were scooped back into the hat and then tossed into the trash can.

 

“Well, we all know  _they_ get along just fine,” Puck noted from his seat in the back row, and Blaine tightened his grip on Santana’s hand.

 

“Wait, I have to sing with Lurch?” Santana asked, feigning outrage. “Assuming he doesn’t eat me before we have to perform, that is. This is highly unfair.”

 

“Santana, I said no arguments about partners,” Mr. Schue said, giving her a look. “Now I want you all to spend the rest of rehearsal figuring out what you’re going to sing together. Performances will be Friday, and you can sing whatever you want as long as both people sing an equal amount.”

 

Blaine gave Santana’s hand one last squeeze before she pulled away, rolling her eyes at him and starting over toward Finn. Everyone was splitting off from the regular chairs in rows, finding spots around the room to sit in pairs and discuss what to do. He took a second to fiddle with his bag before realizing that avoiding looking at Kurt might make things worse than just doing what they were supposed to do. Glancing up at the back row, he saw Kurt putting his phone into his bag. Their eyes met and Kurt jerked his head up slightly, indicating that Blaine should join him since everyone else had left that area.

 

Climbing up the risers, Blaine settled into the chair beside Kurt, leaning back against it and pulling his legs up to sit with them criss-cross. He pulled his notebook out of his bag and flipped open to a blank page, writing ‘DUETS’ at the top in big block letters and then glancing over to quirk an eyebrow at Kurt. “Shall we?”

 

“I think should listen, see if anything strikes us,” Kurt replied, holding up his iPod and headphones, offering one of the earbuds to Blaine. He nodded, taking it and tucking it into his ear, watching as Kurt scrolled through his playlists and chose one. The music played softly, or maybe it was just because he only had it playing into one ear that it seemed quiet, and he tilted his head as he heard the familiar sounds of The Beatles. His attention got pulled away from the music as he felt pressure against the notebook and he looked down to see Kurt writing on it.

 

_Hi._

 

**Hi.**

 

_I don’t actually think we should sing any of these songs, I just figured we should look like we’re working._

 

**Good plan. I think Puck suspects something. He was talking to me before we came in here, and the stuff he was saying – and then what he said when we got paired together…**

 

_Yeah, I caught what he said. Mike told him to shut up, but he was really quiet about it._

 

**Mike is quickly becoming my favorite person. Well, other than you.**

 

_Likewise. I wouldn’t tell Santana that, if I were you. Anyway. This whole duet thing, I think we should do something pissy._

 

**What do you mean?**

 

_Something to make people think we don’t like each other, as opposed to a reprise of Animal._

 

**You’re full of good plans today. So, an angsty duet. I can do that.**

 

_Alright, let’s think of some angry songs. Ready… go!_

 

By the time the bell rang to signify the end of the school day, Kurt and Blaine had come up with a good list of songs – though how many of them would translate well into duets, or be at all appropriate to sing at school, was another story. It was a good start, at least, and Blaine shoved his notebook deep into his bag before getting up to leave. He knew he had to go straight home after school, as terms of his being grounded, but he reveled in the fact that he was going to have to do  _actual_ school work with Kurt and therefore his mom rightfully couldn’t keep him from being around Kurt outside of school.

 

“Hey Blaine!” He turned partway through the parking lot, hugging his coat in closer as he saw Mike jogging over his direction.

 

“Mike, hi,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Hey, um, thanks again for taking me home Friday night. I didn’t mean to get like that, but, um, it happened. So thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Mike said with a shrug, glancing past him. “You got your car back, that’s good.”

 

“Mhm, Saturday,” he nodded, looking up at him. “Did you want something? I’m not – not to be rude, just you were coming after me so I figured—”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Mike started, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing to the side as if to check to see if anyone was nearby. Blaine took a small step back, a pit forming in his stomach. That was kind of the same way Puck had looked around before talking to him in the hall, and even though it was Mike and as far as Blaine could tell, he was nice, it still made him nervous. “I just wanted to say, don’t let Puck or anybody else get to you.”

 

“What?”

 

“He says some stuff that he shouldn’t and you shouldn’t let it get to you,” Mike continued, reaching over and patting his arm lightly. “You’re a good person, and I’ve known Kurt since kindergarten and I can’t remember the last time he seemed as much like himself than lately when you’ve been around.” He’d said the last part so quietly that Blaine thought he’d imagined it, but that didn’t stop the color from draining from his face.

 

“Mike, I—it’s not—” he stammered, shaking his head. “ _I can’t talk about this_.”

 

“I didn’t mean to say something wrong,” Mike said, holding up his hands in surrender, his eyes wide. “You’re a good  _friend_ ,” he stressed the word meaningfully, but they both knew he knew better than that, “that’s what I meant.”

 

“I try to be,” Blaine said, fidgeting with his keys in his pocket. “I have to go, or I’ll get grounded even worse than I already am.”

 

“Right. I’ll see you later, Blaine.” Mike gave him a little wave before backing away, then turning and heading over for his own car.

 

Blaine got into his car and out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, his heart racing a little as he headed toward home. Mike was nice, and Blaine was sure he meant well, but that didn’t stop it from being terrifying that there was someone out there that knew. It wasn’t so much that he was scared for himself, it was because he knew what that meant for Kurt, for Santana.  He got home in record time and went straight up to his room, burying himself in his homework and planning to talk to his mom later about Kurt having to come over – for school stuff, so it’s not like she could really argue about that, right? – despite the terms of his punishment.

 

                                                                            ***

 

As it turned out, Blaine’s mom was less than thrilled about him having Kurt over. It may have been for school, but considering that the only things she’d really banned him from doing was having friends over and going out, it seemed to her like he was finding ways to get around his punishment. It had taken a bit of convincing for her to believe that it truly wasn’t his fault – how could it be when Mr. Schuester had pulled names out of a hat to pair people off – and that he really wasn’t trying to go against her on purpose.

 

“Fine, but you’re going to work on your project in the front room – no running off up to your bedroom, you hear me? Kurt can come over straight after school but he’ll need to leave before dinner.”

 

Just like that, they gained several hours a day that week to spend together. Blaine definitely wasn’t about to complain about the terms of it with his mom, because it really didn’t matter. So maybe his parents were aware that there was something else going on between him and Kurt – they weren’t stupid, after all – but it wasn’t like they were doing anything  _bad_ on the days when they shut themselves away in his room for hours on end. Spending that time in the front room, under the slightly attentive eyes of his mother, wasn’t that big a deal.

 

As it turned out, coming up with an angry song to sing to each other was difficult. There were plenty of songs to choose from, but the great majority of them were clearly about hurt and heartbreak. They didn’t exactly want to throw fuel on the fire by singing something that could be construed like that. Hours were spent in front of Blaine’s laptop, headphones shared between them as they listened to anything they could think of that might work. Conventional choices were thrown out the window and they moved on to the more abstract.

 

It took them several hours one afternoon, thanks to Blaine’s dad staying late at work which gave them more time before dinner, to come up with a song choice and start splitting the lyrics between them. Kurt said he would get word to the band the next morning so they could start working on the instrumentals – and Blaine was still kind of in awe of how they always picked up on everything so quickly. A lot of the time he felt bad, because Mr. Schue was constantly changing what they were singing and they were having to learn new music for it all, but they never really seemed to mind – just shrugged it off and said it was good practice for sight reading.

 

Friday came quickly, though Blaine had kept his distance from Kurt at school through the whole week. The only time he really talked to him was during glee club, when they were working on their assignment. They sat beside each other in the choir room, writing back and forth on his notebook just like they had that first day, and quietly hummed and sang to themselves when it wasn’t their turn to go into the auditorium and run through their song with the band.  
  
Mike hadn’t tried to talk to him again, which made him slightly sad because he  _liked_ Mike, but in the end he figured that might have been for the best, all things considered. Puck continued to unnerve him with little looks or words. Blaine was glad he and Kurt had come up with their plan – whether it would work or not, it made him feel like he had some peace of mind.

 

Everyone in the glee club seemed to be thrumming with energy when the bell rang on Friday to start the period. It might have been because it was Friday and it was the last class of the day, or it was because they were excited to perform what they’d been working on all week, or maybe a little bit of both. Blaine just sat back in his chair, arms crossed across his stomach, barely paying attention to Santana as she danced her fingertips across his shoulders and rested her arm across the back of his chair.

 

“You okay?” Santana asked in a whisper, and he nodded. “You seem tense.”

 

“It’s nothing, just… getting into character,” Blaine murmured, tilting his head to look at her. The corners of her mouth quirked up with a smirk, and she gave a slight nod.

 

“Alright, so who wants to go first?” Mr. Schue asked, glancing out at all his students.

 

Santana’s hand shot up first, as she was obviously eager to get it over with. Blaine knew she loved performing, loved singing and dancing, but didn’t get along with Finn. From what he could tell, they just plain butted heads. It was quickly evident that they had managed to get along well enough to get their song done, though, and he couldn’t help but grin a little as he watched them perform. "Tyre Tracks and Broken Hearts" didn’t strike him as a Finn choice, but it suited Santana perfectly.

 

Brittany and Tina went after them, and Blaine couldn’t really remember the last time that he heard Tina sing outside of the group, but she and Brittany seriously killed "Me Against the Music". He knew that Brittany loved herself some Britney Spears, and he was almost certain the song had been her idea, but Tina seemed to have as much fun with it as she did. Sugar and Sam seemed less involved in the performance aspect and much more into just plain having fun as they sang "Grace Kelly," but it suited them.

 

“Mr. Schue? I’d like to go next,” Kurt said briskly, his hand in the air as soon as Sam had slid back into his seat. Blaine waited for the nod from their teacher, and for Kurt to brush past him on his way down from the back row, before he stood up and rubbed the back of his neck as he moved to stand over by the piano. It was difficult to seem mad at Kurt, something that Blaine had done so easily just months prior. He was just glad that they were both pretty good actors.

 

“ _My mother spent ten years sitting by a window, scared if she spoke she would die of a heart attack_ ,” Blaine started singing, his voice on edge and his eyes cast down to the floor in front of them. “ _She listened as her dreams silently screamed, they drowned like little dolphins caught in a fishnet_.” His gaze flickered up to his classmates sitting there in front of him, barely focusing on Santana for a second before looking further up. “ _Dear world I’m pleased to meet you_.”

 

“ _Hey everybody when you walk the walk you gotta back it all up, can you talk the talk_?” Kurt cut in sharply, and Blaine glanced over at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “ _Hey everybody when I hear the knock, don’t wanna measure out my life to the tick of a clock_.”

 

“ _Hey everybody when my daddy died, he had a sad, sad story living in his eyes. Hey everybody when you walk the walk you cannot measure out your life to the tick of a clock. I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum_ ,” Blaine broke out, the words sounding clarifying and clear as he heard a light scoff come from Kurt. It was almost impossible not to grin at him, but he managed. He thought about boxing, thought about how much aggravation he’d felt caused by Kurt when he first transferred there. “ _I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum_ …”

 

They traded off verses, lines during the chorus, and the tension in the room was almost palpable. Blaine could feel it, how uncomfortable they were to watch, and he would have felt bad except that meant that they were doing something right. He could spit out lyrics with the best of them, and he did just that as he stood face to face with Kurt – and Kurt was practically snarling right back at him. By the time they got to the end, Blaine couldn’t do much but stand there and take in a deep, shaky breath.

 

Not looking at anyone, he moved back to his seat and plopped down, leaning back and setting his jaw. Santana didn’t look but reached over, resting her hand palm up on top of his leg, and he took it gratefully. There was that silence again, much like the one that had happened the week before, after they had sung at the party – no one moving or talking or doing anything. Except then Mr. Schue cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.

 

“Thank you, Kurt and Blaine, for that interesting choice,” he said, getting up from his seat and looking over at all of them sitting there. “Who would like to go next? Mercedes, Artie, why don’t you go on up and show us what you’ve got.”

 

Blaine barely paid attention to what Mercedes and Artie sang, or what Mike and Quinn did when it was their turn to go. Pretending to be mad was almost more exhausting and draining than  _actually_ being mad. He kept ahold of Santana’s hand until the bell rang and they were released, then let go so he could grab his bag and leave the room quickly. It reminded him how he'd felt at the beginning of the school year, when he’d practically bolted out of there because he couldn’t stand to be around Brittany and Kurt. He headed straight for the parking lot, needing to head right home to avoid getting in trouble.

 

He made it to the doors leading outside before he felt a hand grip his arm, and he turned to see Brittany. She opened her mouth to say something, but only managed a whimper, and he felt a pit forming in his stomach. Seeing Brittany sad was like seeing a kitten get kicked.

 

“Are you okay?”  
  
“Are  _you_?” Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, and her hold on his arm tightened. “Can we talk?”

 

“Hang on a second,” he mumbled, grabbing his phone and sending his mom a quick text saying that one of his teachers had asked him to stay to talk about an upcoming paper. It was a reasonable enough excuse to buy some time. “Want me to drive you home?”  
  
Brittany nodded and her fingers kept ahold of his coat as they walked wordlessly out to to his car, and he felt his phone buzz in his pocket with what was most likely a response from his mom, but he didn’t bother checking as he turned the heat on full blast and pulled out and onto the street. He glanced over at Brittany as he remembered his way through the streets to her house, and he reached over to take one of her hands when he saw how deeply she was frowning.  
  
They made it up to her room without any words passing between them, and she looked downtrodden as she pulled him into a hug and burrowed her face against his shoulder. “Brittany…”  
  
“I can’t believe you and Kurt are fighting,” she whispered, her hands running over his back. “What happened? He didn’t say anything and I didn’t know and I thought you guys were happy…”  
  
“Oh Brittany, we’re not fighting,” Blaine said, leaning back so he could look at her. “I promise.”  
  
“But your song,” she replied, swallowing hard as their eyes met. “You were so unhappy. Angry.”

 

“Let’s sit down, okay? That’ll be more comfortable than just standing here.” He set his coat and bag by the door, watching as she kicked off her shoes and climbed onto her bed, grabbing an oversized plush rabbit and clutching it to her chest. He carefully slipped his shoes off before sitting beside her.

 

“What happened?” Brittany sniffled, resting her chin on top of the rabbit’s head.

 

“We just wanted people to think we weren’t friends anymore,” Blaine said after a moment, taking one of her hands and squeezing it lightly. “After the party, it felt like maybe some people were starting to figure it out. Figure  _us_ out. And then we got paired up together and, well, I felt a little panicked by it and we decided to sing something to try and make everyone think we didn’t like each other anymore – not even as friends.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“Not you,” he clarified. “We weren’t trying to make  _you_ think that. I’m sorry we did, I guess we weren’t thinking…” He really should have learned after the first time he’d done something that had unintentionally made Brittany upset, but he hadn’t. Kurt hadn’t thought about telling her either, or Santana – but she tended to see through most things without questioning them. “I’m so sorry Brittany, we should have said something, I never meant to upset you.”

 

“I was just so sad cause I thought…” she shook her head, rubbing her face against the rabbit’s ears. “You and Kurt are so pretty and perfect and I never wanted to see you guys like that. I like it when you’re happy.”

 

“It was just pretend,” Blaine said, reaching over to tuck a stray bit of her hair behind her ear. “Just like Santana being my girlfriend, and you being Kurt’s boyfriend. It’s all one big game of pretend.”

 

“I know you’re not my pretend boyfriend, but will you hug me anyway?” Brittany asked, blinking owlishly at him as she set her stuffed animal to the side.

 

“Always.”

 

That was how they ended up cuddling there on Brittany’s bed, with her spooned back against his chest and her giant cat curled up down by their feet. Physical affection was the one surefire way to calm her, to help her fade out of that sadness and back into the brightness that her life usually was. He’d learned that from Santana – she’d told him early on about how much even just the smallest hug or hand hold could turn a dreary day sunny in Brittany’s eyes, which is why she was almost always touching someone in the slightest way.

 

“Brittany!” Santana’s voice rang up the staircase and a door slammed on the lower floor. Blaine wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more happy to hear her, because he knew he had to leave – there was only so much time he could blame on a teacher keeping him late. Footsteps thundered up the stairs and down the hall toward them. “Brit, you ran off and then Coach Sylvester stopped me before – oh.”

 

Santana stopped in the doorway, staring down at them.

 

“It’s okay, they’re not actually mad,” Brittany said sleepily, motioning for her to come join them.

 

“I have to go,” Blaine said, untangling his arms from around her and shifting up off the bed as Santana kicked her shoes off. “Still grounded. Plus, I wouldn’t want to intrude on – well, whatever may happen here.” He gestured over the bed and Santana smirked at him. “Carry on.” He offered them a grin and a wink before grabbing his shoes, coat, and bag and heading out to the landing to get it all put back together again.

 

His mom didn’t say much when he got home, but at least she didn’t complain about him being late. Even if she had, he knew he’d done the right thing. If the texts from Kurt, the ones that weren’t him being concerned about Brittany, were anything to go by, they had been convincing. Blaine couldn’t wait to not be grounded any longer, so they could celebrate accordingly.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Not talking to Kurt at school was rough. Santana tended to try and make up for lack of conversation by talking to Blaine more, but it wasn’t even close to being the same. Maybe he hadn’t quite thought it through when the idea first came up that they should make people think they weren’t friends anymore, but deep down he knew he would have done the same thing. If it came down to being faux-annoyed with Kurt while at school or all the secrets coming tumbling out, he would go with the protection of the former every time. It wasn’t just about him and what he wanted, after all.

 

Thankfully, he was only grounded for one more week after the duet was done, and once that was over it was easier. He and Kurt may have acted indifferent within the walls of McKinley High School, but afternoons were spent at his house where no one could touch them. Lazy kisses and wandering hands made up for the hours of being ignored, and Blaine couldn’t bring himself to care what happened outside of the times that they were together. Nothing seemed complicated when he had Kurt tucked in close against him and could feel his breath playing across his skin.

 

Winter break sneaked up on him, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not having to go to school and having to play pretend was like heaven. It didn’t hurt that winter was one of Blaine’s favorite times, especially when snow covered everything as beautifully as it did then, and Christmas was his favorite holiday. The best part about not having school and there being snow was that he could spend all day going out and playing in it until his fingers went numb with cold and then escaping back inside to warm them up around a giant mug of hot chocolate. He’d always loved winter breaks home from Dalton for those exact reasons – because his back yard was a giant hill and he could easily spend entire afternoons flying down it on a sled.

 

Because when it came to winter and snow, Blaine was five years old.

 

There had been a particularly good snowfall, with thick crunching snow that was perfect for packing snowballs and building snowmen. It was a fresh layer sparkling on top of everything that had been there previously – filling in the footsteps and indentations that had been made before. When Blaine was little, he’d always thought that it looked like someone took icing and spread it all over the neighborhood. He loved that perfect, smooth look it had when it was unblemished, but he also loved laying down tracks in it from sleds and inner tubes.

 

He had been planning on inviting Kurt over anyway, but the presence of such perfect snow made him feel like he should have other people over, too. Why not? He figured he owed Brittany anyway, after unintentionally upsetting her. Twice. Besides, he was pretty sure that she enjoyed Christmas and snow almost as much as he did – and he was betting that she could get Santana to act like a kid out in it, if given the chance. So he checked with his mom to make sure it was okay and invited them all over. Honestly, he considered inviting some of the Warblers too, but the majority of them were scattered back to their parents’ houses for the holidays. 

 

The roads weren’t too bad, at least as far as he could see, but he figured he had enough time to be productive before they got there. His dad had always been a big advocate of making a ramp for taking the inner tube down the hill, because otherwise it was easy for it to get stuck in the snow – especially if it was deeper like it was now. Once Blaine had gotten into middle school, his dad had started putting a bump down toward the bottom of it, so the inner tube would go flying when it hit it. That was the kind of ramp he built while he was waiting for his friends to come over – with a bump toward the bottom, snow packed in tight and with a little water added on top to add a fine layer of ice for extra fun.

 

Kurt got there first, and even all bundled up in a thick winter coat and at least two scarves he still somehow managed to move gracefully as Blaine took him out to the backyard to see what he’d been working on. It was difficult to hold hands when there were gloves involved, so Blaine settled for resting his arm around Kurt’s waist and holding him in close. His mom had gone to the store, so it wasn’t like anyone would see when he leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek, which was tinted pink from the cold, but even if she had been there Blaine really couldn’t have cared less.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I went sledding,” Kurt mused, reaching up and tugging Blaine’s hat down over his ears.

 

“Well, you’d better get ready,” Blaine teased, looking up at him. “Because today is going to be nothing but sledding and fun and hot chocolate with probably too many marshmallows.”

 

“Blaine, I think we need to talk,” Kurt said seriously, biting his lip. “Because there is no such thing as too many marshmallows.” Blaine rolled his eyes and Kurt leaned in to kiss him, and it only took a few seconds for both pairs of lips to start to warm from the cold. A car door slamming in the doorway broke them apart, and the laughter he could hear from around the house clearly told him that it wasn’t his mom.

 

As Brittany and Santana came into the backyard, Blaine thought about how interesting it was that different people could wear such different outfits for the same activity. Kurt managed to look completely put together and fashionable – as Blaine remembered him being back during the summer – though he assured Blaine that he was wearing multiple layers of pants to try and combat the cold and wet from the snow. Brittany was a burst of pink against the white ground, furry hat and mittens and big boots, and honestly she might have been the most appropriately dressed for the occasion out of all of them. Santana was bundled up in lots of red and black, a big scarf covering half her face, and the way she had her hands shoved in her coat pockets made Blaine worry she wasn’t wearing any gloves, but when she reached out to fix Brittany’s hat he could see that she was.

 

“Oh my gosh, I want to go down that!” Brittany exclaimed when she saw the ramp, and she grabbed Santana’s hand to drag her over to where the inner tube was.

 

“I think she meant ‘hi’,” Santana offered, rolling her eyes at Blaine as she let herself be pulled over.

 

“Want to go down on a sled with me?” Blaine asked Kurt, over the shrieks of the girls sliding down the hill. Kurt stared at him for a moment before a look of realization flashed across his face.

 

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I completely heard that wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “Go down on a sled with you. Yes. That would be good.”

 

“What did you think I said?” Blaine asked, his brow furrowed as he moved to grab one of the sleds and take it to the top of the hill.

 

“Oh, uh, if I wanted to go down on you on a sled,” Kurt said, his hands pushing into the pockets of his coat. “Which, that could be very dangerous should it be in motion—”

 

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine admonished, looking up at him. “It’s  _cold_ out here.”

 

“That too,” he agreed, sitting on the back of the sled and leaving enough room for Blaine to sit in front of him, which he did. They edged up to the top of the hill and Blaine leaned back against him, taking in the feeling of Kurt's arms wrapped around his waist, legs pressed in against his own, the security of it all as they sped down through the snow and barely came to a stop before the tree line far past the bottom of the hill.

 

They kept taking trips down the hill on the sled, running their way back up the sides and eventually trading off with the girls for the inner tube. That only happened once, and Kurt went soaring off when they hit the bump in the ramp, hitting the ground with an ‘OOF!’ and refusing to get back on it again even though Blaine assured him he would hold him in. Brittany seemed more than happy to take his place, because she said she liked to feel like she could fly.

 

Blaine lost count of the amount of times they went down, sled or inner tube or otherwise – like when Brittany convinced them all to roll down the hill with her, and they landed in a big pile of bodies and scarves at the bottom despite the fact that they’d all started in different spots at the top. Santana decided to build a snowman after that, apparently needing a break from constantly climbing back up the hill, and Brittany set about finding decorations for it while she built it.

 

Everything was all well and good until Blaine decided to throw a snowball over in that direction, and it hit Santana right in the back of the head, causing snow to fall down the back of her coat.

 

“BLAINE!” she shrieked, tearing across the yard toward him.

 

“It wasn’t me!” he yelled over his shoulder, trying to run away. “It was Kurt!”

 

“BULLSHIT IT WAS.” Santana caught up to him and tackled him to the ground, sending them both careening over the edge of the hill and tumbling down. She landed on top of him, sitting on his stomach and untangling his scarf from around his neck with surprisingly deft fingers, and then she started stuffing snow down inside his coat collar.

 

“STOP STOP STOP!” Blaine yelped, squirming beneath her and batting at her hands, trying to push them away but not succeeding in the least.

 

“Take her down, Blaine!” Kurt called out helpfully from the top of the hill.

 

“I can’t – she’s a  _girl,”_ he shouted back, managing to catch her wrists for a few seconds before she twisted them out of his grip and pulled off his hat. “Santana!”  

 

“Should have thought about that before you threw a snowball at me, Anderson,” she growled, and he knew he was being stupid because it was  _Santana_ and really, he was going to have every piece of his clothing full of snow if she had her way. So he grabbed the front of her coat and yanked her down against him, throwing her off her balance long enough to roll them over and pin her down. “Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself.” He grabbed handfuls of snow and was about to get some revenge when a voice stopped him.

 

“Blaine Anderson, I  _know_ I’m seeing things right now because no son of mine would  _actually_ be sitting on a young lady and shoving snow down her coat,” his mom called out from the back porch. He dropped his hands down to the sides and looked up at her guiltily. His mom might have been the only person in the world who could rival Kurt for arching an eyebrow that fiercely.

 

“Busted,” Santana said in a sing-song voice, and he gave her a look before climbing off her and offering a hand to help her up to her feet.

 

“Why don’t you all come inside to warm up? I’ll start some hot chocolate,” his mom said, before disappearing back into the house.

 

“Hot chocolate!” Brittany said excitedly, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing Kurt’s hand and tugging him toward the porch. “Yum!”

 

“Such ungentlemanly behavior,” Santana teased, poking him in the side as they trekked up the hill. He rolled his eyes and gave her a shove as they got to the top, joining the other two and going up onto the porch. They all went inside and stopped inside the door to start taking off their boots and coats, and his mom glanced over at them from in the kitchen.

 

“I don’t suppose any of you brought extra clothes with you?” A quick glance around at their reactions proved her right, and she looked at Blaine. “Why don’t you run up and get some sweatshirts and pajama pants or something for everyone, and I can toss all your clothes that are wet from outside into the dryer? That way you don’t have to sit around being cold.”

 

“Wonderful idea, Mrs. Anderson,” Santana said, her teeth chattering as she stood huddled up against Brittany. “I doubt any of Blaine’s hobbit clothes will fit Kurt, though.”

 

“They’ll fit just fine,” Kurt murmured, side-eyeing her as Blaine slipped off his coat and hung it up on a hook before heading up to his room.

 

Blaine grabbed multiple pairs of pajama pants before he couldn’t stand to be in his clothes from outside anymore – the amount of snow that had found its way inside them was ridiculous. He stripped down and changed quickly, then finished getting more clothes for his friends. Carefully holding his own wet things in one hand and everything else clutched to his chest with his other arm, he made his way back downstairs to where they were waiting.

 

“My hero,” Santana said, her tone slightly dry, as she took clothes for herself and Brittany. “Come on, Brit.”

 

“I’ll show you girls to the spare room, you can change there,” his mom said, leading them off down the hall.

 

“And for you,” Blaine said, holding the remaining clothes out to Kurt. “You can change in my room or if you don’t want to go that far, there’s the bathroom down here.”

 

“I think I’ll take the bathroom,” Kurt said, taking the proffered clothes and walking on his tiptoes to get to the bathroom, as if somehow that would help him drip less of the melting snow onto the floor. Blaine picked up a towel from the floor, which his mom must have given them, and rubbed at his hair to try and dry it off.

 

“Hot chocolate’s almost ready,” his mom said as she went back into the kitchen, and he dropped the towel and trailed after her to sit at one of the stools up against the island.

 

“She sat on me first, by the way,” Blaine commented, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his hands. “I was trying to defend myself.”

 

“Oh Blaine.” She sighed, exasperated, and pulled four mugs down from the cupboard. “I know that you went to an all-boys school but I expected you to remember some manners, at least.”

 

“She started it!”

 

“What am I going to do with you?”

 

“Love me?” he suggested, grinning as she gave him a look. “What?”

 

“Of course I love you,” she said as she spooned the hot chocolate from the pot on the stove into the mugs. “That doesn’t mean you get to go around sitting on people.”

 

“I agree,” Santana said, wandering back into the kitchen and plopping down on the stool next to him. “It’s a good thing you’ve got an ass on you; otherwise it might’ve been painful.” Blaine stared at her, horrified to even consider looking over at his mom. Santana was just smirking.

 

“I’m sorry,” his mom said as she set the mugs down on the counter in front of them, a bemused expression on her face. “I know I’ve heard your names,” she gestured at Brittany as she came into the room, “but  _who_ are you, exactly?”

 

“I’m Brittany.”

 

“I’m Santana.”

 

“She’s Blaine’s girlfr—”

 

“No she’s not,” Blaine interrupted, reaching over and carefully covering Brittany’s mouth before she could finish her sentence. Her eyes widened and his mom’s eyebrows raised, and he dropped his hand quickly. Well, there was no getting out of explaining  _that_ one. He sighed, scrubbing his hands across his face before reaching for his hot chocolate. “They’re my friends from school – we’re all in glee club together. My mom is well aware that I’m gay, Brit.”

 

“Oh.” Brittany slid onto the stool on the other side of Santana and looked down at her hot chocolate before glancing up at his mom. “Where do you keep the marshmallows?”

 

“ _Brittany_.” Santana nudged her.

 

“Sorry. Um, may I please have some marshmallows? I asked the other way because I was going to get them myself but I guess that wasn’t polite.” She folded her arms across her lap and stuck her tongue out at Santana.

 

“Of course.”

 

Kurt’s hair was sticking up all over the place when he came back into the kitchen, and he leaned against the island rather than sit, his hands wrapped around his mug to try and glean some warmth from it. Blaine was certain it was the most amazing he’d ever looked – but that might have been biased because he liked when Kurt looked undone, as it was usually his doing. The fact that Kurt was wearing his clothes certainly helped. It wasn’t like they didn’t fit him, they were just a little snug, and that was perfectly fine in Blaine’s eyes. Plus, he was certain that Kurt pulled off the Dalton sweatshirt far better than Brittany and Santana did – but then again, he was biased.

 

“This is ridiculously good hot chocolate,” Santana murmured as she held her mug close to her face, peering over the edge of it up at his mom. “Thank you.”

 

“Thank  _you._ It’s an old family recipe.”

 

“Can I be part of your family so I can have this all the time?” Brittany asked, her eyes wide as she took another big sip.

 

“Sure,” his mom said with a laugh, setting the bag of marshmallows in front of them. “I’ll just leave these here in case any of you want some more.” With that, she left, heading into the laundry room to start all their clothes drying.

 

“I like your mom,” Santana said conversationally, drinking half her hot chocolate in two big swallows. “She’s nice – and she made you stop sitting on me, so bonus points.”

 

“Could you maybe  _not_ talk about my ass in front of my mom, by the way?”

 

“I don’t really blame her,” Kurt chimed in, leaning to the side and glancing down at him.

 

“My eyes are up here,” Blaine said dryly, and Kurt grinned as his gaze flickered up to meet his.

 

“Can we watch a movie while we wait for our clothes?” Brittany asked, putting more marshmallows in her mug to replace the ones she’d eaten from it already. “Something Christmasy?

 

“Sure. We’ve got a lot of Christmas movies to pick from,” Blaine said, sliding off his stool and grabbing his mug. “Come on, you can pick.”

 

They all took their hot chocolate into the den, and Brittany looked over the movie selection before deciding on _The Muppet Christmas Carol_. Blankets were pulled out of the chest beside the couch and the four of them settled in on it, curling up under the layers of fabric and getting comfortable as Blaine turned on the movie and pressed play. It may have been the middle of the afternoon, and there was some light coming in from the windows, but the room was almost dark enough that it felt like evening.

 

Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable. They were all crammed in close to one another, because the couch wasn’t quite big enough to accommodate four people, but they managed just fine. It was also the comfort of the fact that everyone who was sitting on that couch was, at that moment, content with themselves. There was no fear – not in the way that Santana slipped her arm around Brittany’s shoulders so she could curl up against her, and not in the way that Kurt held Blaine’s hand, on top of the blanket, and rested his head against Blaine's shoulder as he listened to him sing along quietly.

 

Blaine wondered if Santana’s parents knew about her and Brittany, or if Brittany’s parents did. There was something about the way Brittany had been so eager to share their cover with his mom, like it was something she was used to doing, and how that all had melted away as soon as Blaine had told her there was no need. He’d almost felt some tension leave Santana at that, which made him think that maybe it wasn’t just something she was keeping from the school, but from everyone. Of course, his mom didn’t know about them, but they didn’t bother moving apart from how they were cuddled together when she came in to let them know their clothes were dry and ready whenever the movie was done.

 

All their clothes were folded in neat piles on the bed of the spare room and after the movie, Brittany and Santana went in to change first. Kurt took the opportunity to press in closer to him, kissing the corner of his mouth. It struck Blaine that it was the first time Kurt had ever kissed him somewhere in his house other than in his room. He smiled, cupping his jaw and tilting his head so he could kiss him full on the mouth. It felt good, felt nice, almost freeing. At least it did before Santana came back in, dressed in her own clothes but hugging his sweatshirt to his chest.

 

“Can I borrow this?” she asked, holding it up. “I mean, you don’t ever wear it.”

 

“Uh, sure,” he said, shrugging and untangling himself from the blanket that was covering them. “Do you want to be a Warbler? Because you have a great voice and all, but there’s a  _slight_ problem…”

 

“No, I don’t want to be in some preppy boy bird group,” she said, rolling her eyes.

 

“We’re not –  _they’re_ not a  _bird_ group.”

 

“Whatever.” Santana waved her hand around, shrugging. “I think Brit and I are going to head out, get home for dinner before it snows any more."

 

“Blaine, your mom gave me some of her hot chocolate mix to take home!” Brittany said, bounding into the room with a big Mason jar clutched in her hands. “I can’t wait to drink it all!”

 

“Just don’t have it all at once,” his mom added as she walked into the den and started folding the blankets from the couch. “You girls feel free to come by anytime, alright? I’ll make sure Blaine doesn’t sit on you.”

 

“ _Mom_.”

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Anderson,” Santana said, an actual, genuine smile spreading across her features at the offer.

 

Blaine walked with them to the front door, getting hugs from them both before they went out to the driveway. Kurt lingered, and slipped his arms around his waist from behind as they watched them drive away through the window. There was a pause, a hesitation, then his chin tucked in on top of Blaine’s shoulder and he whispered, “Is this okay?”

 

He could have meant so many things – the affection, him staying, any of it – but Blaine thought he knew what he was asking. It wasn’t just a question about one thing or another, it was everything. Blaine’s hands ran along Kurt’s arms, taking in the soft, worn fabric of his own sweatshirt covering them, until he got to his hands and laced their fingers together. Kurt drew in a breath and let it out slowly, and Blaine leaned back against him. “This is okay.”

 

They popped in another movie, going for the classic  _A Christmas Story_  and curling up on the couch again. There was twice as much space without the girls there, but they didn’t use any more than they had previously. It was nice to be close, to not have to worry, though Blaine was almost certain he was going to have to explain some things to his mom once Kurt left – which he hoped wasn’t anytime soon. Though he didn’t really have to hope when nature took care of that for him.

 

The movie finished just in time for dinner, which was pizza that Blaine’s dad brought home on his way back from work. It was easily the most time Kurt had ever spent in the same room with Blaine’s parents, which was slightly unnerving for Blaine but it wasn’t like they didn’t know Kurt. He’d been over so often, just always in Blaine's room or away from everyone else. Blaine had spent so much time telling them that he and Kurt were just friends that he wasn’t sure how to go about saying that they weren’t. That wasn’t a bridge he really felt like crossing just then – he’d save it for all the rest of the questions he was sure he was going to be answering.

 

“My dad texted me,” Kurt said after dinner, looking down at his phone as they took their plates into the kitchen. “Apparently the roads are bad?”

 

“It’s been getting worse for the past few hours,” his dad said, bringing in the leftover pizza and putting it in the refrigerator. “My car was slipping a little on my way home, and the sleet was just starting.”

 

“I haven’t even… looked outside since San and Brit left,” Blaine said, his brow furrowing. “Is it really that bad?”

 

“It’s pretty bad.” Blaine looked over at his dad and he bit his lip.

 

“If Kurt’s dad doesn’t want him to drive home in the weather, would it be okay if he stayed?” he asked tentatively, and Kurt glanced over at him. “Just, if it’s really bad, that would be better… right?”

 

“Right…” his dad said slowly, looking between the two of them before giving a slight nod.

 

“I’ll call and ask,” Kurt offered, his phone still clutched in his hand. “Thanks, Mr. Anderson.”  He ducked out of the kitchen and Blaine could hear him talking to his dad as he went down the hall.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Blaine added, putting their plates in the dishwasher and offering his dad a brief smile of gratitude before escaping from the kitchen and trailing after Kurt. It had been a brief call to Mr. Hummel, judging by the fact that Kurt was off the phone by the time Blaine found him perched on the edge of the bed in the spare room, but Kurt just gave him a smile and a nod and Blaine felt a slight rush at the fact that Kurt was spending the night. That hadn’t ever happened before, not even when he’d been at Dalton.

 

His parents offered Kurt the spare room, which Blaine took as a subtle attempt to keep them from being in the same bed. They settled for unfurling sleeping bags on the floor of the den and grabbing as many spare blankets from Blaine’s room as possible to pile on top, just case, along with plenty of pillows. The icy rain had stopped, but it was back to snowing, and they could see it out the windows through the spaces in the curtains.

 

_It’s a Wonderful Life_  played in the background as they sat, legs completely engulfed in blankets and backs pressed in against a multitude of pillows, barely paying attention to what was on the screen. Blaine didn’t really know how he was expected to pay attention to a movie, though it was a Christmas movie  _and_ a classic, when Kurt was right there beside him. He was far too intent on tracing the tip of his finger along the palm of Kurt’s hand, following every little line and running up and down the edges of his fingers, as if outlining them. Kurt’s head tilted back against the couch cushions, but he still watched the paths of Blaine’s finger as it never ceased in its exploration of his palm.

 

“You can tell me to stop,” Blaine murmured, after Kurt’s hand had jerked away involuntarily. It was tickling, he knew, it wasn't intentional.

 

“I never want you to stop,” Kurt whispered, and Blaine glanced up to see him looking down at him so intently.

 

“Kurt…”

 

“Blaine…” Kurt drew in a breath and closed the small distance between them, his lips capturing Blaine’s and overwhelming him because he could  _feel_ that there was so much behind it. Kurt pulled away first and rested their foreheads together, his eyes closing and his brow furrowing. Blaine stayed quiet, not wanting to speak out of turn when Kurt was so clearly trying to form words to say. “Blaine, I want you.”

 

“You have me,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to cup Kurt’s cheek and let his thumb stroke against it.

 

“No, I want you, want to  _be with_ you,” Kurt clarified, his eyes opening to look into Blaine’s. “To be able to tell anyone and everyone and hold your hand when I walk down the hall, kiss you somewhere that isn’t behind a closed door. To not have to  _hide_ anymore.” He hesitated, his head tilting almost subconsciously into the touch of Blaine’s hand. “You make me want to be more.

 

“I was fine with pretending until you came along. Everything that happened over the summer should have been terrifying. I never let myself do anything like that before, never even thought about approaching anyone because – what if someone saw? What if I completely misread someone and then people at school found out and then they would  _know_? Being thrown into dumpsters, having slushies tossed in my face, being humiliated on a daily basis and who knows what else – I couldn’t deal with the thought of any of it. But there you were and all I could think was that I didn’t care. And then you came to McKinley and I  _was_ terrified because I knew I couldn’t, no matter how much I wanted, and then you gave me so much just by understanding and being willing to deal with all of it, and you never… you never asked for anything in return.”

 

“Kurt…”

 

“I want to be with you – out in the open, no hiding, no secrets. I want to be brave for you. I owe you that much, if not more.”

 

“God, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his hand sliding to the back of his neck and threading up into his hair. “You don’t owe me anything. I want you too, I do, more than anything. But I can’t… I can’t ask you for that – I can’t let you do that  _for me_. It has to be for you, because  _you_ want to. I doubt it’ll be easy, if and when you do come out, and it has to be for you and not anyone else because resentment would be so easy should something bad happen. And Kurt, you  _are_ brave, don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

 

“I  _hide._ ”

 

“You do what you feel is necessary to stay safe,” Blaine corrected gently, kissing him for just a brief moment. “As much as I want to be with you, to shout it from the rooftops and tell the whole world, I would never want you to jeopardize your safety just for that. I could never ask you to, never let you, do that for  _me_. It has to be for you.”

 

“I want to, not just for you, but I’m just so tired of pretending,” Kurt whispered. “It’s worse now, because there’s you. Before, I just had to keep my head down and no one noticed or paid attention, because it was just me and other than a fleeting ill-advised crush that I knew would never ever amount to anything, I never looked at anyone twice. But now there’s you, and every time I see you I just wonder  _why_ I’m holding Brittany’s hand and not yours, and it’s worse now that I’m pretending like I don’t even like you as a friend anymore. You’re kind of that catalyst, but I want this for me. I do.”

 

Blaine realized it as soon as Kurt said Brittany’s name, and he felt a small punch in his stomach. It was one of those instances where they’d made their bed and were being forced to lie in it, because even if Kurt  _did_ want to come out and it was for his own reasons and not because he felt like he owed it to Blaine, he couldn’t – not without dragging Santana and Brittany out with him. He closed his eyes, a slightly bitter laugh falling from his lips as he shook his head. “Mutually assured destruction.”

 

“What?” Blaine opened his eyes, and Kurt was looking back at him with panic etched across his face.

 

“No, not – sh, it’s okay,” he said quickly, kissing the corner of his mouth and tracing lazy circles through his hair with his fingers that were already tangled in it. “I just – Santana said that once, when she found out that we had, well, a  _history_. I told her not to tell anyone and she said that it would be mutually assured destruction if she did, so I had nothing to worry about, and  _God_ , I really want you to be able to do whatever you want at whatever time you want, and if you want to come out then you should be able to, but…”

 

“I didn’t even think about them,” Kurt murmured, shaking his head. “I’m a  _horrible_ friend.”

 

“No you’re not, you were just caught up in yourself which is  _fine_ , Kurt,” Blaine soothed, his hand moving down to his back to rub between his shoulder blades. “This isn’t something that needs to be rushed, it shouldn’t be rushed – so we’ll all get together and talk. We’ll figure it out, one way or another, and we’ll find a way so that no one gets pushed into something they don’t want. We’ll figure it out.”

 

“But what if—”

 

“You have me, Kurt. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere, even if we have to keep pretending until graduation or beyond. There’s no ‘what if’ that’s going to change that.”

 

That seemed to appease Kurt enough for the subject to be dropped until they could figure out what to do, and the movie ended not long after. They burrowed down into their sleeping bags, and Blaine rolled his over until he was half-laying on top of Kurt, his arm poking out of the top so it could curl around him. Kurt tugged the extra blankets up to their shoulders so that Blaine’s arm was covered and wouldn’t get cold, and they fell asleep amidst lazy kisses.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Waking up next to Kurt had been a wonderful and slightly surreal experience. Blaine wanted to stay like that as long as possible. He woke first, so he’d gotten to study just how beautiful and peaceful Kurt looked while he was sleeping, the little rays of sunlight that had fought their way in through the curtains casting a wonderful light across his features. There had only been so much he could take of just looking, though, and before long he’d woken him up with light kisses and nuzzles against his neck.

  
The roads were cleared by morning and Kurt stayed for a late breakfast, because the possibility of them getting up off the floor when they were nestled in so close and comfortable and warm was slim to none. It had taken Blaine’s mom bribing them with chocolate chip pancakes and bacon before Blaine even acknowledged the fact that he was awake. He’d fully accepted the fact that his parents were most likely going to grill him as soon as Kurt was gone, so he hadn’t felt the need to move away or act like they hadn’t been cuddled together. Besides, they were each in their own sleeping bags so it wasn’t like anything  _that_ bad could have happened on the floor of the den.

 

All good things had to come to an end though, and not long after breakfast Kurt was changed back into his own clothes and bundling up to head out to his car and go home. Blaine’s dad had cleared all the snow and ice off it while they’d been having breakfast, as he’d gotten up at a normal time and already eaten, so the goodbye was brief and the kiss long as Blaine leaned out the front door and tried to avoid getting his bare feet on the cold porch. The door had barely been closed and latched behind Kurt before he heard a throat clear behind him.

 

“I feel as though we should talk,” his mom said as he turned around, and she gestured toward the den. The blankets were still all bunched on the floor, and she nudged them out of the way as they sat on the couch. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

 

“About what?” he asked carefully, shoving his feet under one of the blankets to try and warm up his toes. She gave him a look, and he bit his lip. “Well, where do you want me to start?”

 

“How about with the big red flag thrown up yesterday?” she said, tucking one of her legs up underneath herself so she could turn to face him more. “Your friend Brittany started to let a little something slip because she didn’t think I knew that you’re gay – is there trouble at school? If there is, you know you can talk to me or your dad about it. What happened last time is never going to happen again, Blaine.”

 

“It’s nothing like that,” he said quickly, wanting to erase the pure concern written across her face. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for his parents after the attack, and he knew that was exactly where her mind had gone. “Mom, I promise, I haven’t felt any kind of threatened.”

 

“Then what’s going on? Sweetheart, I don’t know if it’s because you were used to being at Dalton and we didn’t see you every day, but after you transferred to McKinley, everything with Kurt - it’s been like watching a rollercoaster. We’re just worried, and it feels like there has been secret after secret and you never used to keep things from us like this, so it’s concerning. We trust you, and you’ve never given us a reason not to – other than your little stint with alcohol a few weeks ago – but I know that I’ve never felt so out of the loop with you before.”

 

“I’ll… tell you,” he said, the words coming out slowly as he picked and chose them, “but I need you to promise that you’re not going to get mad or tell anyone.”

 

“Blaine, are you involved with drugs or something?”

 

“What? No!”

 

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

 

“No…”  _I feel like I’m about to be, though_ , he added in his head.

 

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

Blaine took a deep breath and started at the beginning, back at the Lima Bean when he’d first met Kurt. His mom sat quietly, watching him as he spoke, and it was impossible not to register the reactions that crossed her face. He didn’t hold back much, though some details he didn’t exactly want to share with his mom. He told her, with a slight blush rising in his cheeks, that they’d had sex, but he didn’t divulge anything further than that.

 

When it came to everything at McKinley, that was where he got nervous. He’d never been one for lying, especially not to his parents, and he had been lying a lot. But he told her about seeing Kurt with Brittany on his first day, and what had happened that night that Kurt had come over after dinner, how Santana had needed his help that day in the locker room and he’d willingly given it ever since. All the pieces of their confusing little puzzle just fell into place as he spoke, and by the time he’d gotten to the party and the duets and the conversations he’d had with Kurt both the night prior and after the football game he’d gone to, his mom had taken his hand and was squeezing it gently.

 

“Oh honey,” she murmured when he finally stopped talking, like he’d built a dam to hold in the words that kept spilling from his mouth as if he was unable to stop them.

 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he repeated. “I mean, you can, um, you can tell Dad, but I-I don’t know if any of their parents know and so you can’t say anything.” That was why he hated secrets and lying so much – because it only took one person letting something slip to bring everything crashing down.

 

“I’m not going to tell anyone except your dad,” she said, reaching up with her free hand to push his hair back off his forehead. “I promise.”

 

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be sneaking around or anything like that—”

 

“Blaine, shh.” She put her fingertips under his chin and pressed up so he would close his mouth. “Do I get a chance to talk in all this?” He nodded, lips pressed together resolutely to keep from babbling on further, and she dropped her hand. “Good. This is all… very complicated.”

 

“I know,” he whispered.

 

“I am…  _proud_ of you for helping your friends, for being willing to put yourself into this situation for them,” she continued, “but I wish you would have told me sooner, or your dad, because this sounds like something that could go bad so quickly, Blaine, and I don’t want any of you kids to get hurt.”

 

“I know, I just, I didn’t know what to do,” he said, hugging his arms around himself. “It didn’t sound that bad until I said it all at once, and I mean, it’s not all bad because at least the school knows to keep an eye out now, and Kurt’s been talking to Miss Pillsbury and she’s really been helping him.”

 

“It’s not all bad, but it’s still a bad situation,” his mom said, frowning. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, or what’s right, but I want you to be careful. I know you’re just trying to help everyone you can, but it’s like you said to Kurt: it’s not going to work unless everyone’s on the same page. Getting four people, especially teenagers, to be in the same place…”

 

“I know,” he said again, shoulders hunching forward slightly. “Brittany and I, we’re a lot alike. We don’t care what people say or think – well, her more than me, because I hear it and just keep it to myself, or box, but I doubt she would even notice if someone said something to her about it. Either that or she wouldn’t understand. Not that she’s dumb,” he added quickly, his eyes wide at the thought that his mom might misinterpret his words. “She just sees things differently, and I don’t think she’d understand why anyone would ever say something bad like that.”

 

“She seemed very sweet.”

 

“She is, and she’s… she would be okay, I think, and if Kurt wants to come out then it’s just Santana and I don’t want her to feel pressured or anything, I just know she’s scared.” He bit his lip. “I feel horrible because this is what I’ve wanted for months and it could finally happen, but there are people in my way. How bad of a person am I that that’s what I’m thinking?”

 

“You’re  _not_ a bad person, Blaine,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Everything you just told me, honey - you’ve been doing nothing but think of other people for months now. Don’t get yourself down for thinking about yourself for once. You and I both know you would never ever try to push someone into something they weren’t ready for, especially when you’ve been helping her practically since you met.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“If… any of them need someone to talk to, in terms of support for if they want to tell their parents, I’m more than willing.” Blaine always knew he’d lucked out as far as his parents were concerned. He might not have always seen eye to eye with his dad, but things had changed over the years and there was nothing bad between them. His mom, well, she was one of the best people he knew. She’d never been anything but supportive of him, and he hoped that his friends were lucky enough to have someone like her. “They’re always welcome here, make sure they know that.”

 

“I will, thanks.” He rose from the couch and she caught his arm before he could move much further away.

 

“About—” she seemed to change her mind about whatever she’d been planning to say and cleared her throat, looking up at him. “You’re being safe, aren’t you?”

 

It took Blaine a good few seconds before he realized she meant in reference to sex. “Oh. Oh! Yes, of course, I… yes.”

 

“Good.” His mom let go of his arm and he made it halfway to the doorway of the room before she spoke again. “And Blaine? I know you didn’t have to deal with much of being accountable to someone at Dalton, but you’re not there anymore. No more sneaking around.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

Blaine managed to send a little something to all his Warbler friends for Christmas, and of course he got presents for Brittany, Santana, and Kurt as well. They didn’t all get together to exchange gifts, and that was okay. He dropped by the girls’ houses while he was out the day after the holiday, not wanting to intrude on any family time the days before, but he had hesitated to do that for Kurt. After all, his dad simply thought Blaine was someone who tutored his son. That was why he called first.

 

“Hi,” Kurt said as he answered his phone, his tone hushed.

 

“Hey, I have a present for you.”

 

“I have one for you too. Um, also, something else.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“I was… I want to talk to my dad,” Kurt said quietly, sounding nervous, and Blaine could almost picture him standing there with his phone clutched against his ear, eyes flitting around to make sure no one was watching him. “To  _tell_ my dad, you know, and I was kind of hoping you would be there? With me? For support.”

 

Blaine had a fleeting vision of Burt getting mad at him, and he was half-sure that he was going to kill him if he even learned half of what had happened between the two of them. Except Burt had been nice when they’d met, and he made himself focus on all the bits of Kurt he’d seen in him instead of the quickly evolving terror in his head.  “Of course I’ll be there.”

 

That was how Blaine found himself standing on the porch of the Hummel house after checking the address three times from the text Kurt had sent him, knocking on the door. He crossed his fingers that Kurt would answer, and he wished he’d thought to call Kurt before knocking to let him know he was there. But then the door swung open to reveal Burt and he looked slightly confused, but happy nonetheless.

 

“Blaine, right?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said with a small nod. “Kurt’s home?”

 

“Yep. Come on in, kid.” Burt turned away as Blaine stepped inside the house and shut the door behind him. “Kurt!”

 

“If it’s Blaine could you send him up here please?” Kurt called back, and Burt glanced back at Blaine and gestured toward the stairs.

 

“Second door on the right.” He shrugged and headed back into some room off to the side, leaving Blaine to head upstairs on his own. Before Blaine headed upstairs, he shed his coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door, taking off his shoes and glancing around at the inside of the Hummel house.

 

It was one of those moments when he realized just how much Kurt kept to himself. Blaine had never been to Kurt’s house before – he hadn’t even known where it was. Part of him felt like he was intruding on so much, because he’d never been allowed to see any of these pieces of Kurt’s life, but he’d been invited there. Kurt  _wanted_ him there. So he let his eyes take everything in as he climbed the stairs and turned down the hall, knocking lightly on the second door on the right before turning the knob and letting himself in.

 

“Blaine…” Kurt said as soon as the door was shut, and Blaine made himself stop looking around at the room to focus on the boy in front of him. Kurt looked scared, and not in that watching-a-scary-movie type of way. It was very much the same type of fright Blaine had seen on his face that day at the school, after the Warblers had performed and they’d gotten more than a little carried away in an empty classroom.

 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Blaine said soothingly, crossing the room and cupping Kurt’s face in his hands, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead. “You’re fine. Everything’s okay. You don’t have to do or say anything if you don’t want, you know, we could just sit and—”

 

“No, I want to,” Kurt said, sounding resolute. His arms rest over top of Blaine’s shoulders and he leaned in to kiss him, hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head as he traced his tongue along the seam of Blaine’s mouth.  Blaine parted his lips willingly, and his hands dropped down to press against Kurt’s chest as their tongues curled together. It seemed like the longest time before either one of them managed to pull back, and Kurt rested their foreheads together as Blaine’s fingers stayed twisted into Kurt’s shirt. “I want to, I’m so tired of hiding and pretending, I want to.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine murmured, giving a little nod that moved both their heads. “Okay.”

 

Kurt kept hold of his hand as they walked out of his room, and Blaine let him lead down the hall and stairs. Their fingers stayed intertwined as they slowly went down step by step, but Kurt slipped his hand away as they went into view of where his dad was sitting watching television. Burt glanced over and raised an eyebrow when he saw them standing there in the doorway, and he reached over for the remote and turned down the volume on the show he was watching. “Bud?”

 

“Dad, can we, uh, talk?” Kurt asked, his arms folding across his stomach.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Burt said, motioning over toward the couch. Kurt moved over and sat, but Blaine lingered in the doorway, unsure of whether he should sit or stay where he was. Except then Kurt glanced over at him and he knew he should stay by his side, so he crossed the room and sat beside him – not too close, but Burt’s eyes had followed him the whole way. “What is it?”

 

“You love me, right?” Kurt started, his voice wavering slightly as he looked over at his dad.

 

“Of course I do.” Burt shifted forward in his chair, reaching over and patting Kurt’s knee. “What’s this about? Are you having trouble with school? Is that—?” He gestured over toward Blaine, and his brow furrowed. “Except you’re on break right now so why—”

 

“No, not school,” Kurt said quickly, shaking his head. “Just… me. It’s about me. I have to tell you something and I-I’m scared that you might…”

 

“Kurt—”

 

“I’m gay.” It was almost like Kurt had breathed the words, they came out so quietly. Blaine took in a breath and couldn’t take his eyes off Kurt, couldn’t look away from him to see what Burt’s reaction was. Kurt looked like he was coiled tight like a spring, and Blaine just wanted to reach out and rub his back or something, anything, to make him less tense. “I’m gay.”

 

His voice was surer the second time around, more like he meant to say it. Blaine managed to glance over at Burt, taking in the unblinking eyes of the older man as he stared at his son – and then his gaze turned on Blaine for a few seconds before looking back. Maybe Kurt was breathing, but Blaine couldn’t tell because the other boy wasn’t moving even the tiniest bit. “…Dad?”

 

“Kurt, I—you know there’s not a damn thing you could tell me that would ever change how much I love you,” Burt said slowly, quiet and gruff but obviously sincere.

 

“I…”

 

“I’m just a little confused, is all,” Burt continued, his brow furrowing. “I’m not saying I’m completely right there with you, you know I’m behind you no matter what, but it’s gonna take… a bit, for me.” He took in a deep breath and reached over, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. “I’m glad you told me. I love you, Kurt. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

 

“I love you too, Dad,” he whispered, and he brought his hands up to brush away the tears that had fallen.

 

“I’m gonna need your help understanding some stuff,” Burt said, clearing his throat as he glanced over at Blaine, who avoided eye contact a little more than he wanted to admit, and then back to Kurt. “Cause don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of thought before that you were – except then you stopped caring about much except football and helping me out at the shop, and I know I shouldn’t stereotype or anything but there you go.” He paused. “Wait. You have a girlfriend.”

 

“I… not really,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “I mean, I do, but…”

 

“You leading that girl on? Kurt, that’s not right.”

 

“No! No, I’m not, Brittany knows,” he amended quickly, arms curling in tightly around himself. “She knows.”

 

“Alright, so explain that to me.” There was no accusation in Burt’s tone, no demand, just a request.

 

Kurt took a deep breath and launched into telling his dad about it all. He kept it together for the most part, though he did reach over and take Blaine’s hand mid-way through and held onto it as if it was the one anchor keeping him there. Blaine didn’t miss the way Burt’s eyes flickered between them, lingering on their linked hands, but he seemed determined to let Kurt have it all out before he said anything in return.

 

There were parts of the Kurt’s story that Blaine had never heard before. How he’d started dating Brittany without knowing for sure about her and Santana. How he hated himself for standing idly when people around him were bullied, because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself and get any kind of backlash. How summer football practices usually sent him into a spiral because spending that much time around people he knew wouldn’t like him if they knew the truth was his least favorite thing, but last summer had been bearable because when he’d left those practices, he’d had Blaine.

 

And that was when Blaine could really feel Burt’s gaze boring into him, and he squeezed Kurt’s hand tightly as he kept going. Thankfully, Kurt skimmed over most of the parts dealing with him. By the time Kurt was done explaining, he was crying in earnest – and Blaine wasn’t sure if it was out of relief or what, but he let go of his hand so he could rub his back in an attempt to soothe.

 

Blaine’s own coming out hadn’t been nearly as emotional or raw, but he also hadn’t spent years trying to hide. For him, it had been much more of a revelation – and then the next time that his mom had tried to tell him that one of her friends had a nice daughter his age, he’d told her that he was gay. She’d dropped the plate she’d been holding, mostly because he’d always just said ‘okay, sure’ whenever she suggested such things, but then wrapped him up in the tightest hug he’d ever experienced. He knew it had been so much more than just a hug – it had been acceptance, love, comfort, and security, all wrapped into one. They’d told his dad together, and that had gone less than well, but it didn’t matter because everything changed after the attack. Everything changed, including himself, and his dad didn’t hold anything against him.

 

Blaine didn’t let Burt’s stare stop the way his hand was smoothing along the plane of Kurt’s back, skimming over the soft knit of his sweater and feeling the way he was taking shallow, ragged breaths as he tried to rein himself in. Kurt reached over and took his dad’s hand, and Burt rose to his feet, pulling Kurt along with him and into a tight hug. Neither of them looked like they were going to let go willingly, and that was kind of perfect to Blaine. He was glad that Kurt had that love and acceptance in his life, especially because he knew how important his dad was to him.

 

“So I’m guessing you’re not actually tutoring my kid,” Burt said over Kurt’s shoulder, and Blaine pursed his lips and shook his head.

 

“No, sir, I’m not, I’m sor—”

 

“That’s my fault too,” Kurt interrupted, pulling back away from his dad so he could look at him. “I said that, not Blaine. He didn’t even know I told you that until  _you_ told him at that game, and I’m sorry for lying, I shouldn’t have, but I… panicked, I guess.” He paused, biting his lip and hugging his arms around himself again. “I panicked.”

 

“I’m… going to go grab a drink, but I’ll be right back.” Burt patted him on the shoulder and headed for the kitchen. There was still a full glass of water sitting on the coffee table, Blaine noticed, but he didn’t blame Burt for needing a minute or so to himself. It was a lot to take in. He also wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity to get up off the couch and pull Kurt into his arms, which he gladly did.

 

“See?” he murmured, his arms tight around Kurt and his hand sliding up to rub at the back of his neck. Kurt’s arms slipped around him and he practically clung, burying his face against his shoulder and letting out a shaky breath. “Everything’s okay. You’re brave and your dad is amazing and everything’s fine.”

 

They didn’t move until Burt came back, just stood there holding each other. Blaine could feel Kurt’s trembling gradually slowing as the minutes stretched out. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like, to have hidden away for so long and then finally come out and said the truth to the person who mattered the most – because he knew how much Burt meant to Kurt. That was why he was more than a little worried when Burt came back and asked if he could talk to Blaine for a minute alone.

 

“Have a seat, kid.” Kurt shot Blaine an apologetic look as he disappeared into the kitchen. Blaine did as Burt said, perching himself on the couch and watching as the older man sat down in the same chair he’d been in before.

 

“Mr. Hummel, I never meant to lie to you,” Blaine said, biting the inside of his lip.

 

“Nevermind about that,” Burt said, waving his hand dismissively. “What exactly is going on between you and my son?”

 

“I—um.”

 

“Look, he’s spent a whole lot of time over at your house saying that he was getting tutored and obviously that’s not true,” Burt said, leaning forward to look at him better. “And then that night it snowed real bad, he spent the night over there too. Now, I’m not stupid, so I know something’s going on.”

 

“Sir, I... well, first off nothing happened when he stayed the night,” Blaine started, figuring that was as good a place to begin as any. It hadn’t slipped his notice that Burt hadn’t bothered waving off the formalities and told him to call him by his first name, like he had at the football game. “We watched Christmas movies and went to sleep and that’s it.” Burt made a ‘hmph’ sound, but Blaine didn’t let that discourage him because what he’d said was essentially the truth. Sure, he’d left out a bit of kissing and cuddling, but he didn’t think that was what Burt was asking about.

 

“As for everything else, well, I suppose that’s complicated,” he continued, twisting his fingers together. “I don’t want to lie to you, so I won’t. Kurt comes over to my house a lot, or he did when school was going on. It was the same way over the summer, except at Dalton instead of my parents’ house. Sometimes you just need a place to go where you can be yourself, you know? I think… I think that was my house, for him. He didn’t have to pretend anything when he was with me. We talked a lot, about everything. He didn’t tell me anything about school or family or you until I was at McKinley, so I didn’t know how stuff was there.”

 

Kurt had told his dad about how he met Blaine at the Lima Bean, after all. It wasn’t like it was a secret that he’d known Kurt was gay from the get-go, but he hadn’t realized that in itself was a secret until he got to McKinley. That had been the allure of them constantly being at Dalton, after all. It was like their own little bubble where there were a limited amount of people who knew what was going on, and the possibility of word getting outside the bubble was slim to none. Blaine missed that bubble, he really did sometimes, but he knew he wouldn’t have traded away the past several months even if he had the chance.

 

“I—we’ve talked about a lot of stuff but we’ve never really slapped titles or labels on anything, because it never really made sense, given the circumstances,” he added quietly, his gaze shifting up to meet Burt’s. “I’d have to double check with Kurt, but considering the conversation we had when he was over at my house last time, I would call him my boyfriend. We’ve been through a lot, Mr. Hummel, but there hasn’t been a single thing that’s made me stop caring about your son since the moment we met. It would mean a lot to me if I knew you were okay with us, because from everything I know about you I respect you a lot, and I know it would mean the world to Kurt.”

 

“I don’t like all the sneaking around that’s been going on,” Burt said plainly, giving Blaine a look.

 

“Me either,” he agreed. “I don’t do the, uh, hiding thing well. I got used to it because, well, of everything that was going on, but I prefer not to.”

 

“Good. Don’t do it anymore.”

 

“No problem at all, sir.”

 

“Kurt!” Burt yelled over his shoulder, making Blaine jump. He looked up as Kurt came into the doorway, wide eyed and slightly timid looking. “You’re telling me that all those times in the summer I thought you were out hanging around with that girlfriend of yours or whatever she was, you were going off to that Academy place?”

 

“Um…”

 

“What if something had happened? What if I’d needed to find you? What if something’d gone wrong with my heart again and the hospital couldn’t get ahold of you?” Kurt’s eyes just grew wider, and Blaine bit his lip. “It feels dumb to try and ground you for stuff that happened months ago, but if I ever find out about you doing that sort of thing again, you bet I’m going to ground you from then until you go off to college. No more of that shit – if you’re going somewhere, you tell me where for real.”

 

“Okay,” Kurt said with a quick nod. “I will, I promise, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m ordering something for dinner,” Burt said, getting up from his chair and pointing at Blaine. “You staying?”

 

“I-I have to get home, actually.  My grandparents are coming into town,” Blaine said, shooting Kurt an apologetic look. It really was the worst timing. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

 

“Sure,” Burt grumbled.

 

Kurt watched as his dad went into the kitchen to order them dinner, and then looked back over to Blaine. Blaine didn’t know what he looked so unsure about, so he got up and went over to him. Their hands laced together automatically and he offered a small smile up at him. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Kurt murmured.

 

“I  _do_ have to go, I wasn’t just making that up,” Blaine said, wrinkling his nose.

 

“It’s not just because my dad scared you off?”

 

“He didn’t scare me off,” he replied, squeezing his hands. “Not even close. He—he’s a good guy, Kurt. I wasn’t really sure what to say, but I told him that I’m your boyfriend, I hope that’s okay.” He knew he had kind of taken a chance by putting that label out there, but he was hoping that Kurt didn’t mind. Judging by the light flush in his cheeks, he didn’t.

 

“Boyfriend,” Kurt said slowly, as if he was rolling the word around in his mouth and seeing how it felt. “ _My_ boyfriend. I am so beyond okay with that.” He leaned in, brushing a light kiss against Blaine’s lips before jumping back slightly at the sound of his dad’s voice as he talked on the phone. “Come on.”

 

Kurt tugged him out of the living room, back toward the front door. It was an attempt to distance them from Burt, Blaine knew, but he supposed it was also practical since he was going to need his coat and shoes. He let go of Kurt’s hands so he could put them on, but once he was done he slipped his arms around him again. It felt strange to be there in Kurt’s house, kissing him softly but with an attentive ear listening for footsteps from his dad, but it was nice. He couldn’t put into words just how proud he was of his boyfriend – a word and title that sent a wonderful thrill through him, though he supposed that’s what they’d been for a while – so he tried to show him in other ways.

 

With a groan, Blaine pulled back as he heard his phone going off in his coat pocket. He knew his parents were bound to call, since he’d said he would only be gone for a little bit and would be back before his grandparents got there, but that was before he’d called Kurt and knew that he was going to be gone longer than anticipated. It only took a few seconds for him to convince his mom he was on his way back before he was able to hang up, and pushed onto his toes to kiss Kurt again quickly.

 

“I have to go, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Kurt said, shaking his head and watching Blaine slip on his coat. “Oh, your present!” He took the stairs two at a time as he went up them, and hopped back down in the same manner once he’d retrieved a neatly wrapped box. Blaine pulled a small box, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with a ribbon, out of the inside pocket of his coat, and they handed them off to each other.

 

A brief tear of paper later – Blaine always tried to unwrap presents as carefully as possible, keeping the paper intact – and they were both unwrapped. Kurt let out a slight yelp as he opened his box, seeing the tickets for _Wicked_  in March that Blaine had given him.  Blaine almost wasn’t able to open his own present due to Kurt throwing his arms around him and hugging him tightly.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kurt said, pulling back and straightening Blaine’s coat from how it had gotten bunched up. “Mine isn’t nearly as good.”

 

“Oh stop it,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes as he opened the box. Inside were half a dozen bowties, all wonderfully patterned and different on both sides. One in particular stood out – Dalton colors on one side and McKinley colors on the other. “Kurt, these are perfect…”

 

 

“I made them,” Kurt admitted, reaching in and fidgeting with them. “It took me a couple tries before I figured it out, but they turned out well. They aren’t quite as fancy as what you’d get from a store, but…”

 

“Are you kidding me? What bowtie could possibly not be fancy?” He caught Kurt’s hand and squeezed his fingers gently. “I love it. I love them.”  _I love you_ , his mind supplied.

 

“I’m glad,” Kurt said, beaming a little as Blaine carefully folded the wrapping paper, slipping it into the box before putting the lid back on.

 

“I’ll give you a call; maybe see you in a day or two? My grandparents are here for a few days but I could always try to sneak away.” Blaine winked and leaned up, kissing him briefly before stepping back toward the door. “I’ll probably be texting you a lot to keep my sanity.”

 

“Oh, how horrible for me.” Kurt rolled his eyes and followed him to the door, crowding into his space and pressing him back against it to keep him from opening it. He dipped his head down and kissed him deeply, licking his way into his mouth and letting his tongue sweep inside with long, almost lazy strokes. Blaine didn’t think he would ever be able to leave if Kurt kept kissing him like that, and he wasn’t about to stop him, but the ringing of his phone broke them apart for the second time in five minutes.

 

“My parents are giant cockblocks,” he muttered, ignoring the call and leaning up to chase Kurt’s mouth, but Kurt took a step back. “Hey…”

 

“I’ll see you in a day or two,” Kurt said, resting his palm against his cheek and kissing his forehead. “But you should go before your parents get mad and stop that from happening.”

 

“And also before your dad kicks me out,” Blaine teased, but he reached back for the doorknob all the same. “I’m proud of you, Kurt. So proud.” Kurt smiled softly and let his hand fall down to Blaine’s chest for a moment before pulling away entirely.

 

“I’m glad. I want you to be.”

 

Blaine ducked out the door and hopped down from the porch to get to his car, waving at Kurt at the window before pulling out of the driveway. He knew he was going to have to talk to Santana – well, Santana and Brittany both. Circumstances had changed between him and Kurt, but they were still the same when it came to everything else. Amazing how such monumental moments still meant so much but underneath they could still mean something completely different.

 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

New Year’s Eve was the next time Blaine was able to see Kurt. As it turned out, sneaking away while his grandparents were in town was completely unacceptable. He could understand that, and under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have cared, but it was time he could have been spending with Kurt. It all got made up, though, when his parents said they were headed to a friend’s house to bring in the New Year and he could invite friends over if he wanted, so he asked Kurt, Brittany, Santana, and a bunch of guys from the Warblers.

 

Blaine knew he was taking a bit of a chance, but his friends from Dalton were accepting and kind. It wasn’t just because they went to Dalton, but he was sure the environment there helped – they were good people in general. He invited them because he missed them and wanted to spend time with them, of course, but there was also the underlying thought that it would be a safe environment with outside people where he and Kurt were going to be together. Where Brittany and Santana could be together, with no fear of anyone saying something to them.

 

His parents didn’t seem to care how many people he had over as long as the house wasn’t a mess when they got back, and it wasn’t like he was going to have some sort of raucous party in their absence. Only four of the Warblers were in the area and without plans for the night, and then of course Kurt and the girls were coming, but he doubted any of them were going to cause his parents to regret letting him have a small party for the holiday.

 

Burt had called to talk to his parents, and that had been the most terrifying moment for Blaine in the whole ordeal. He’d wanted to know the adults who were there at the house where his son spent so much time, and thankfully his mom handled the questions with grace and ease and without saying that she had no idea what Kurt and Blaine did because they were always up in his room. He was certain that Burt would have been less than pleased if she’d told him that. She also told him that Kurt was welcome to spend the night after the party, to keep him from having to drive home so late – a courtesy that was offered to everyone who was coming but no one else’s parents were likely to be as concerned as Burt about the sleeping situation – because they had a spare room where he could stay.

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie because they  _did_ have a spare room where Kurt could stay, but Blaine knew full well that if Kurt was going to spend the night there was no way he’d be doing it in there. Burt seemed appeased, however, and that meant that Kurt showed up with an overnight bag that quickly made its way up into Blaine’s room. He also showed up earlier than anyone else, and after helping Blaine make sure they had a good amount of snacks and stuff to drink, they stretched out on the couch together, limbs intertwined, and there were soft caresses of lips against skin until the doorbell rang again.

 

Nick, Jeff, Wes, and Thad had all carpooled together to get there, and as soon as Blaine opened the door he got tackled down to the ground by half of them – Wes and Thad just watched, bemused, as Jeff sat on Blaine’s chest with a triumphant grin. Apparently Brittany and Santana had pulled in right behind them, because they walked through the doorway and looked down at them, Brittany with a wide-eyed blink and Santana with a smirk.

 

“Wow, Blaine,” she said, reaching down and ruffling his hair. “Is this a trend? People just love to sit on you, don’t they?”

 

“Shut up,” he grunted, shoving Jeff off him and sitting up, glaring at him. “See if I ever invite you anywhere again.”

 

“You love me,” Jeff said, waving off the idle threat and hopping up to his feet. Nick gave Blaine one last poke to his side before standing and offering a hand to help him up. He took it gratefully and pushed the door closed once he was upright, blocking out the cold wind from outside. Santana looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and he could see the questions just waiting to be asked.

 

“San, why don’t you come with me and get the stuff from the kitchen? Everyone else, Kurt’s in the den if you want to join him.” Brittany pouted a little, but took Jeff’s hand and swung it between them.

 

“I remember you!” she exclaimed, tugging him toward the den. Nick shot Blaine an amused look, and he shook his head. Jeff and Brittany were a lot alike, and he had no doubt they’d be able to talk for hours, but Nick had nothing to worry about when it came to his boyfriend and he knew it. Blaine just took Santana into the kitchen, letting her slip her hand into his but letting go once they were out of sight of anyone.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, leaning back against the counter and looking at her. “Actually, you shouldn’t do that. Not tonight.”

 

“But…”

 

“I know these guys, Santana,” he continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. “They’re good, they’re nice. They were my best friends at Dalton and they  _know_ me. You don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t, not tonight, not because of them. They’re not going to say or do anything bad because you’re with Brittany, but they definitely won’t believe you if you try to act like you’re with me.”

 

“Can you promise that?” Santana asked, almost demanded, skepticism clear in her voice.

 

“I absolutely can,” Blaine replied sincerely, reaching out and taking her hands. “I completely promise you that. Jeff and Nick have been dating for almost a year and Thad and Wes are great. Please take advantage of the opportunity to be yourself in front of other people.  _Please_. I’d hate for you to think you couldn’t be you when you’re here.”

 

Santana seemed to consider the proposition, to consider  _him_ as he stood there. Her eyes were piercing into his, but he could see the defensiveness slowly melting away as they stood there in the silence, her hands holding onto his. “If anyone says anything bad, I give you full permission to punch me.”

 

“You’re going to regret that one,” Santana said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

“No I’m not, because you aren’t going to get the chance,” he said, pulling her in a little closer so he could speak softer. “You can do this. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to; I’m just saying that I can’t play the boyfriend for you because I have my own.” He pressed a light kiss against her cheek. “It’s up to you.”

 

“You promise?”

 

“I promise,” Blaine replied, offering her a smile. “Courage.”

 

Santana set her jaw, keeping hold of his hands for a few more seconds before pulling her own away. She looked determined, resolute, and Blaine was half-certain that it would be terrifying to see her be like that about almost anything else. As it was, he was glad – proud. She turned on her heel and went back out of the kitchen, and he grabbed a bowl of chips to follow her into the den. Everyone else was just sitting around talking, and she went straight over to Brittany and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to her feet.

 

It wasn’t as if Blaine hadn’t seen Santana kiss Brittany before, because he definitely had. But what he’d seen before had absolutely nothing on how she pulled her in right there in front of them all and tilted their mouths together effortlessly. Brittany made a soft sound of surprise but slipped her arms around Santana’s neck and seemingly refused to pull away.

 

Kurt was the one who stared the most, but Blaine supposed that was because he knew what a moment that was. Wes paused in his conversation with Thad – which had appeared to be a heated one about what the Warblers were going to sing at an upcoming school event – but went right back to it a moment later. Jeff blinked, looking up at Blaine and then back to the girls before reaching over and grabbing the front of Nick’s shirt and hauling him over the short distance between them so he could kiss him.

 

“Wha—mph!” Nick exclaimed, almost falling onto him as their lips collided, putting his hands on Jeff’s shoulders so he could pull back. The outburst had been enough to break Santana and Brittany apart, and Blaine wasn’t sure if he would ever really be able to get over their expressions. They both looked happy, but beyond that Santana looked triumphant, proud, and Brittany was beaming. 

 

Just like that, everything seemed to fall into place. That had been all it had taken to prove to Santana that nothing was going to happen there at the house, other than Jeff assuming that everything was a contest that he wanted to win. Nick had his hands full with his boyfriend, but Blaine had to guess that he was used to him by then. That was what had always happened with anything they’d done at Dalton, after all – any game they’d played had turned into a legitimate battle of Jeff was involved because he was more competitive than anyone had ever guessed.

 

If anyone was as competitive as Jeff, if not more so, it was Santana. It was one of those things that Blaine should have guessed, but hadn’t. They all discovered it when they turned on the Wii and started to play MarioKart. Santana may have spouted off more swear words than Blaine had known existed while she was playing, but she was _good_. Apparently that was something Jeff took personally, as he was the reigning MarioKart champion at Dalton, and they spent a good hour battling each other as everyone else watched on.

 

Nothing could have possibly been more entertaining than watching Jeff’s Yoshi and Santana’s Rosalina battle it out over the various racecourses while their players sat tense on the edge of the couch, vehemently cursing at each other and the screen. In the end, Santana just barely edged him out for the victory – after many, many rounds that kept having each one win in front of the other in turn – and Jeff demanded that she come to his home turf so he could stomp her into the ground there. The thought of Santana gracing the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy was hilarious to Blaine, because he could just imagine what she would say and how quickly she’d get kicked out.

 

It was great to be able to spend time with his friends from Dalton again, and Blaine was glad that the group came that did. He knew he shouldn’t play favorites with his friends, but Wes had been his roommate and he really missed him sometimes. They texted a lot, but it wasn’t anywhere close to what they’d had before. He was the one person Blaine had been able to talk to about what was going on at McKinley, because he was the only one who knew all the details.

 

Being able to hold Kurt’s hand, tease and joke with him, in the presence of other people was something Blaine hadn’t realized he was missing. Of course he’d thought about it every time he had Santana’s hand in his, but that wasn’t the same as knowing for certain just how good and freeing it was to be able to do. It was comfort, ease, and he wanted to have it every day of his life – not just when they were within the walls of his house or Kurt’s.

 

The countdown to midnight was loud, everyone crowded around the television with confetti poppers in one hand and cups of sparkling cider in the other. Santana had briefly lamented the lack of alcohol but Blaine had shut her up with a reminder that the last party involving alcohol that they’d been to hadn’t exactly ended well. Even if there had been booze, there was no threat of anything like that happening that night, but that was beside the point.

 

Confetti shot everywhere as midnight tolled and “Auld Lang Syne” blared out of the speakers as Kurt pulled Blaine in for a kiss, and he couldn’t help but slip his arms around Kurt’s waist and suck on his lower lip briefly before pulling back and looking up at him. He really was incredibly lucky, he knew, and he had high hopes for the New Year being worlds better than the last few rocky months. Kurt brushed another kiss against his lips before letting go of him.

 

“What, you don’t have any straight girl friends?” Thad asked Blaine teasingly, taking a sip of his soda. It was true, Blaine hadn’t really thought about the whole everyone kissing at midnight part of New Year’s Eve and really, Thad and Wes were completely out of luck. Not that he actually thought they cared.

 

Brittany swooped down and planted a loud, smacking kiss against Thad’s lips, and he looked completely startled. She looked pleased by herself and nudged Santana, who rolled her eyes and grabbed onto the front of Wes’s shirt, leaning in and kissing him very briefly. He barely had time to react before she let go of him and slid her arm around Brittany’s waist, resting her head on her shoulder. Wes and Thad just stared over at them.

 

“Whatever, we kiss those idiots all the time,” Santana sighed, waving her hand over toward Kurt and Blaine. “Just don’t expect it to happen ever again, bird boys.”

 

“Bird boys?” Thad bristled, his head cocking to the side.

 

“Warblers are more than birds, Santana,” Blaine groaned, really not wanting her to spark up an argument with two members of the council because she refused to let go of her inherent nature to tease. “ _We_  are not birds, we’re _people_.”

 

“ _You_ aren’t a bird anymore, Frodo.”

 

“Hey! Once a bir—Warbler, always a Warbler!” Nick said from his spot on the floor, struggling to get to his feet from how Jeff was hanging on him.

 

“Guys, it’s fine, she’s just being difficult,” Blaine said, giving her a look and getting a smirk in return.

 

“She is  _mocking us_ ,” Thad exclaimed, arms folding over his chest.

 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Kurt piped up. “She mocks everyone. Actually, she only  _really_ mocks people that she likes, so I’d take the compliment and treasure it if I were you.”

 

“I’m standing  _right here_ and you guys are talking about me like I’m not,” Santana said, huffing out a sigh.

 

“Stop picking on the pretty birds,” Brittany murmured, nuzzling against her hair. Thad looked like he was going to object again, but Blaine clapped his hand over his friend’s mouth to stop him. Santana was being playful with them and practically cuddling Brittany standing up and he really didn’t want Thad to keep arguing such silliness with her when she was being so open. Between him doing that, and Brittany playing with Santana’s hair, the teasing argument was dropped.

 

It wasn’t long after that people started to need to head back to their respective houses, and the Warblers all gave Blaine really long hugs as if they weren’t going to see him again for a long time. Then again, he wasn’t exactly sure when he would see them next so it wasn’t that strange. He made a mental note to make sure to check in on them every once in a while. They had a brief snowball fight through the front yard as they made their way to the car.

 

“Hey,” Santana said quietly, stepping up beside Blaine as he stood at the window and watched his friends pummeling each other with snow. “Brit and I are going to go.” She already had her coat on, and Brittany was probably getting hers on while she said goodbye to Kurt, Blaine assumed. “Thanks… for tonight.”

 

“You know you’re welcome here anytime,” Blaine said, nudging her shoulder. “You’re my self-proclaimed best friend, after all.”

 

“Damn right I am,” she said as she grinned over at him. He felt arms slipping around him from behind and he tilted his head back to see Brittany pressing in against his back. “You ready, Brit?”

 

“Yep! Take me home, Santana!” Brittany said with a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s cheek before letting go of him and slipping her hand into Santana’s. “Thanks for the fun party, Blaine. I like your friends, they’re nice.”

 

“They are,” Blaine agreed. Santana slipped her free arm around him in a hug and nosed her way back to his ear so she could whisper in it.

 

“I meant thank you for  _everything_.”

 

Santana pulled back and offered him what possibly was the most genuine and sincere smile he’d ever seen on her face before she gave Brittany’s hand a tug and pulled her out onto the porch. Blaine watched them run out to the car and slip inside, and thankfully Santana was not a crazy a driver when there was snow on the ground because she pulled out of the driveway tamely and disappeared around the curve of the road.

 

Kurt slipped up behind him and slid his hands over Blaine’s stomach, hugging him back against him as his mouth pressed kisses against his neck. As much fun as it had been to have everyone over, and as glad as he was to have seen his friends from Dalton for the first time in a long while, he had been looking forward to them all leaving so it could just be him and Kurt and an empty house all to themselves. His eyes closed and his head tilted to the side as he felt his boyfriend’s tongue flicking against his skin, his breath falling heavily from his lips.

 

“Kurt…” he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Kurt’s neck, his breath hitching as Kurt sucked against his pulse point. He pressed back against him as he felt the arm around his torso tightening, and Kurt’s free hand slid down and dragged over the front of his jeans. Blaine’s hips jerked against his touch, and he was getting harder with every rub of the heel of Kurt’s hand against him. It certainly didn’t help when Kurt swiftly popped the button and undid the zipper and slid his hand inside his jeans. “Fuck. Upstairs, now.”

 

“Bossy,” Kurt whispered, his lips brushing against his skin, but he unwrapped his arms from around him all the same and headed toward the stairs. Blaine turned and trailed after him, staying far enough back that he got a nice view of Kurt’s ass as they went up. They didn’t bother shutting the door to Blaine’s room since they were the only ones there for the night, and Blaine pulled Kurt in against him as he walked him back toward the bed, their mouths sealed in a rough, desperate kiss.

 

Clothes came off easily, shirts and undershirts littering the floor before hands made their way to waistbands and buttons. Kurt had a head start on getting Blaine’s pants off, but Blaine made quick work of catching up and pushing them off Kurt’s hips and down his thighs. Gently nudging him down, Blaine got him to sit on the bed so he could kneel down and work his pants the rest of the way off his legs, his hands running up them once they were bare. Kurt’s legs were just so  _long_ and really, Blaine could have spent all night just looking at them but he could clearly see the outline of his boyfriend’s erection through the fabric of his briefs and he figured his time was better spent focusing on that than his legs.

 

His hands slid up Kurt’s thighs and he dug his fingertips in against his muscles, and they both groaned in response. He tugged him up toward the edge of the bed and leaned in, nuzzling his face against his groin and breathing in the heady scent of everything that was just  _Kurt_ and perfect. Kurt braced one hand back against the bed but let the other one thread its fingers through Blaine’s hair as he mouthed along his length, sucking against the head through the fabric and earning a throaty moan from Kurt.

 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Kurt managed to get out, tugging on his hair to pull him away from what he was doing. Blaine got to his feet and shucked off his pants, barely getting his feet free of the ankles before Kurt was pushing his briefs down his legs and pulling him in, nuzzling his face against his skin and dragging his tongue along his hipbone. Blaine almost fell on top of him, but braced his hands on his shoulders to stop himself.

 

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” he murmured, carding his fingers through Kurt’s hair as the other boy nipped at his skin. Kurt’s arms stayed snug around his waist, resting on his hips, as he stared up at him with dark eyes, pupils spread over what was usually so beautifully stormy blue. Not that Blaine was complaining, because he loved when Kurt’s eyes got like that. “Kurt?”

 

“Wanna fuck you,” Kurt mumbled as he practically buried his face against Blaine’s stomach, his breath huffing hotly against his navel. Blaine’s eyes widened and his fingers tightened in Kurt’s hair, getting caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan at the statement. They’d done a lot of things together, but not that. It wasn’t that he was opposed; it was just that Kurt had never really shown a particular interest or want. Not like then, when he’d actually flat out said it and he was trailing his thumb down the cleft of Blaine’s ass, the pad of it brushing down against his rim and making him shudder. “Please.”

 

“Yeah?” The word came out in a breath, and his knees almost gave out as Kurt dipped his head down to mouth along his cock. “ _Fuck_ , Kurt…”

 

Kurt twisted around, pulling him down onto the bed and hovering over him, one leg pressed in between his and Blaine rocked up against him a little. Kurt didn’t often take control like that - the last time had been in the classroom at school, after the Warblers performed.  That hadn’t been anything like this, though; back then he’d looked desperate and scared, but now he was hungry, wanton.

 

“I want you,” he whispered, his hand trailing down over Blaine’s chest and torso, barely touching and making Blaine’s muscles jump involuntarily.

 

“You have me,” Blaine replied softly, catching his hand and looking up at him as earnestly as he could, considering how much he just wanted to roll him over and ravish him. “You have me, Kurt. God, anything you want, you have me.” There was a slight hesitation, then Kurt leaned down and kissed him deeply, lingering, sucking on his tongue before he finally made himself pull back.

 

“Turn over?” Kurt murmured, and Blaine let go of his hand so he could comply, scooting up the bed and rolling onto his stomach, letting out a groan at the sudden friction and pressure against his cock. He pressed his hips down against the mattress, trying to get a little bit of relief, and then turned his head a little to look back over his shoulder at Kurt.

 

“Everything’s in the drawer.” He motioned toward the bedside table, though he was pretty sure that by that point Kurt was aware of where he kept the condoms and lube. Blaine would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous, but mostly he was anxious, excited, stuck in anticipation as he heard Kurt rustling around in the drawer and then sliding it shut again.

 

Kurt’s hand ran down his spine, fingers bumping over the ridges of his vertebrae as they made their way down to the small of his back, and then he nudged his way in between his legs. Blaine brought his knees up underneath himself like he’d seen Kurt do times before when he’d fingered him, and he sucked in a sharp breath as Kurt pressed an open mouthed kiss against the base of his spine, his tongue flicking against his skin briefly before he pulled back.

 

Blaine closed his eyes as Kurt’s hands cupped his ass, fingertips digging in against his skin as they spread him open and he waited for him to let go, to hear that familiar sound of the bottle of lube being opened, but it didn’t come.  Honestly, he was getting a little self-conscious about the amount of time Kurt was spending just staring at his ass. Except then there was the faintest brush of something – lips, he realized belatedly – against him, almost immediately followed by the wet warmth of Kurt’s tongue giving tentative little licks, and he choked on a moan.

 

His hands fisted into the covers as Kurt seemed to gain more confidence in what he was doing, the strokes of his tongue growing longer and laving. Blaine couldn’t help the whimpers and moans that fell from his lips, especially when the tip of Kurt’s tongue traced around him, swirling several times before going back to licking and caressing. He could feel Kurt’s full mouth over him, his nose pressed in against his skin, and he felt like he might burst from just how much he was feeling all at once. His fingers loosened their grip on the blankets so he could reach down and squeeze around the base of his cock with a groan.

 

“Fuck, oh, Kurt,  _fuck_ ,” Blaine whimpered as he felt the tip of Kurt’s tongue press in slightly against his puckered skin, and then his body jerked as Kurt moaned, the vibrations going right through Blaine in a way he didn’t know was possible. Kurt slipped his arm around Blaine’s hips, holding him there as his tongue thrust into him, shallowly at first but gradually deeper, and Blaine shuddered as his entire body thrummed with pleasure.

 

Thankfully, Kurt seemed to realize just how close Blaine was to the tipping point, and after a few more thrusts and twists of his tongue he stopped, loosening his arm around him and pulling back. Blaine practically crumpled forward, thinking that maybe he should have amended his statement of ‘anything you want’ to Kurt to include that he should warn him if he was going to do something like  _rim_ him because otherwise he might die.

 

Kurt’s hand ran over Blaine’s back in long, smooth strokes, and then it disappeared. Blaine drew in deep, ragged breaths as he glanced back at him, watching as he flipped the lid on the lube and slicked up his fingers. He was still having a little trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that the first thing he’d ever had in his ass, other than his own fingers once or twice, was his boyfriend’s  _tongue_.  And then seconds later, the press of his fingers were there and Blaine braced his forearms against the mattress as Kurt worked him open.

 

It was a process that he’d been on the giving end of many times, and he knew that he always liked to take his time, cautious and not wanting to accidentally hurt, but being on the receiving end was so different. There was such a wonderful burn, and Kurt’s fingers were stroking into him with angles that he’d never been able to get himself – which was why it wasn’t exactly something he did on his own. The quiet deliberation was there in Kurt’s movements, and Blaine easily realized why Kurt tended to turn into a whimpering, pleading mess and it was because he was pretty sure the exact same thing was going to happen with him.

 

That was how he felt before the tips of Kurt’s fingers brushed against his prostate, making him yelp. It was half from surprise and half from how it had felt like jolts of electricity coursing through his veins. Kurt pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and Blaine dropped his forehead down against the mattress as he felt Kurt hit that spot again and again as his fingers stretched him open. He let out a broken whine when Kurt dragged his fingers out and didn’t push them back in; the absence of having a part of Kurt inside him was overwhelming.

 

“Kurt  _please_ ,” Blaine whimpered, hearing the tear of the condom wrapper and the click of the lube being opened again, and he shifted restlessly, his hands tugging and fisting into the covers of the bed as he tried to find something to hold onto. “ _Please_ , please please…”

 

“Did you want to stay like this?” Kurt asked, his hand smoothing over Blaine’s ass. “Or turn over?”

 

“Whatever you want.” He knew he probably should have said to stay like that, because he’d heard it was supposed to be easier for the first time, but he didn’t care as long as Kurt was happy and inside him. So he let Kurt nudge him over onto his back and he brought his knees up automatically, head pressed back against the pillow as he looked up at Kurt – who was looking so beautifully debauched already he really didn’t even know what to say.

 

“Want to see you,” Kurt mumbled with a groan, his hand smoothing lube over himself as he shifted in closer, dragging the tip of his cock down Blaine’s perineum and back to brush against his entrance. Blaine gasped, hand reaching up to cup the back of Kurt’s neck. “Blaine…”

 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Blaine murmured, pulling him down for a kiss and making a soft surprised sound in the back of his throat because he’d forgotten what Kurt had been doing before he started fingering him – though  _how_ he’d managed to forget, he had no idea – and he hadn’t been expecting to taste himself on his tongue. It was different, but definitely not in a bad way. “So gorgeous like this.  _Please_ , Kurt, I need you.”

 

Kurt slowly pressed in, and Blaine closed his eyes and whimpered as he paused just past that first tight ring of muscle. His fingers, so long and slender and perfect, hadn’t really prepared Blaine at all for what it was going to feel like to have the full girth of him. Blaine breathed out a strained ‘oh my  _God_ ’ when Kurt eased in further, and forced himself to open his eyes to look up at him. There was such tried concentration on Kurt’s face, and Blaine knew what he was feeling – the struggle to keep from just going for it, hard and fast and everything all at once.

 

Except then Kurt was pressed flush against him, buried inside him entirely and kneeling so still, his hair falling onto his forehead as he looked down at him. Blaine couldn’t remember what life had felt like before he knew what it was like to feel so full, so complete, and he didn’t even want to try. That moment, even just laying so still and waiting for his body to adjust to the stretch of Kurt inside him, was one of the perfect things he’d ever felt. Except then Kurt shifted just slightly, restlessly almost, and that topped it.

 

“Sorry,” Kurt whispered, his hands stroking down Blaine’s thighs, but Blaine shook his head.

 

“Don’t apologize.” Even just that tiniest movement had made Blaine crave more, and he swallowed hard as he took him in. Kurt hid all his lean muscles under his clothes, and Blaine felt more than a little possessive about the fact that he was the only one who had seen him quite like that. “Move?”

 

“Okay.” There was a moment of pause, then the slow drag of Kurt pulling out slightly and moving back in, and Blaine gasped out his name. The steady push-pull inside him was too much and not enough all at once, and his hands scrabbled to find holds on Kurt’s arms, squeezing against his biceps and keeping him pulled in close.

 

It was a slow build, but it didn’t take long for Kurt to grow seemingly more confident in what he was doing, less scared of hurting, because his movements became sharper, deeper, and Blaine was almost certain he was going to leave finger shaped bruises on Kurt’s arms from how hard he was gripping onto him. Except he had to let go with one hand to reach down between them and wrap it around his cock, his palm rubbing over the head and slicking with precome before stroking along his length and pulling himself closer to that tipping point.

 

“ _Blaine_ , fuck,” Kurt panted, his eyes wide as he looked down, and his hips snapped forward faster, spurred on by watching him. “You’re gonna make me—”

 

“Good,” Blaine choked out, twisting his hand on an upstroke and feeling the tightness in his body spreading, lurking, waiting to unleash. “Let go, just let go—”

 

Kurt cried out as he came, and he braced his hands on either side of Blaine as he crumpled forward. Blaine only lasted a few seconds more than him, white bursting behind his eyes as he choked back a moan, thick ropes of come spreading over his chest, stomach, and hand. Neither of them moved, save for how their bodies were trembling as they drew in deep breaths and let them out in ragged huffs through kiss-swollen lips.

 

“You… feel…” Blaine tried to begin, but words were beyond failing him at that point.

 

“You too,” Kurt mumbled in reply, his eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. He started to pull out and Blaine whimpered, not ready to lose the contact and fullness, so he stayed. They stayed like that, just still and quiet and breathing together. Blaine couldn’t tell how much time had passed, and he felt like he was drifting in his post-orgasmic haze, but he knew that at some point it was going to have to end. “Blaine…”

 

“Okay.” He pulled Kurt in for a kiss before he let him go, and seconds later he felt empty and more aware of how sticky he was with sweat and come and lube. Kurt pressed a kiss against his knee, looking down at him for a long moment before shifting off the bed. He moved on unsteady legs, and Blaine shamelessly watched as his stark naked boyfriend made his way across the room and out into the hall. Thank God his parents weren’t home.

 

He came back with a damp washcloth and Blaine felt like he was sinking back into the mattress even further as Kurt gently rubbed at his chest and stomach, wiping off the drying come and then shifting down to between his legs. Blaine took in a sharp breath as he felt him carefully cleaning off the lube, and he stayed still with his legs propped up as they had been to make it easier for him. Kurt kissed the inside of his thigh before sliding off and taking the washcloth back to the bathroom.  When he returned, he nudged he door shut, then stretched out on his stomach next to Blaine on the bed.

 

“You’re amazing,” Blaine murmured, rolling over and pressing in against his side, his arm draping across his back. “Kurt, that was… you feel amazing.” It definitely wasn’t the most articulate he’d been in his life, but he was sure Kurt understood.

 

“ _You_ are,” Kurt whispered, tilting his head so he could look at him. “I never imagined it would feel like that. So good…”

 

“I never did either.”

 

“Happy New Year, Blaine.”

 

“Happy New Year.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Going back to school after the few weeks of bliss that had been the holiday break was difficult. It was a sort of culture shock, like back at the beginning of the school year. There was no more holding Kurt’s hand, stealing kisses whenever he wanted, because he was there with Santana’s hand in his instead, and hers didn’t feel anywhere near as wonderful as Kurt’s. After those weeks where it had been nothing but Kurt, it was hard to get back into the swing of things at school.

 

He and Kurt had talked, of course, about what to do in terms of Santana. They’d had that initial conversation where they’d decided they should all sit down and discuss what was going on, but then after New Year’s Eve, Blaine had thought that maybe it was better not to. It had been wonderful to see Santana out of her shell, free to do whatever she wanted with Brittany around others, but he knew that it had been an isolated occasion and a very safe zone. So they left it, figuring the chips would fall where they may no matter what conversation might have been had.

 

The last thing Blaine wanted was to push anyone into something they didn’t want or weren’t ready for, and that pretty much went double where Santana was concerned. He thought that talking to her about how Kurt was ready might make her feel pressured, and he didn’t want her to feel as though she had to come out as an obligation to them, just so that they could have what they wanted. It was a tricky situation all around, and Blaine couldn’t think of a single way to broach the topic with her without making it seem like he was asking her to come out for his benefit.

 

It was the little things that kept Blaine from getting down about the fact that he couldn’t openly be with Kurt, had to pretend to practically not even be on speaking terms with him again. Sometimes secrets were fun – like when he would wear one of the bowties that Kurt had made him, because only the two of them knew just how special they were and how much they meant. That was one of the anchors he had, a secret proclamation that only he and Kurt understood.

 

It was like how Kurt started to dress slightly different – claiming it was because football season was over so he didn’t have to wear his football paraphernalia to show his solidarity. His jeans were more like the ones Blaine had been accustomed to seeing on him over the summer, and he transitioned from sweatshirts to sweaters. When asked, he said that he was doing it because Brittany liked it and had gotten him a sweater or two for Christmas – but he and Blaine knew the truth (though Brittany  _did_ like it, because skinny jeans were always nice in her opinion).

 

Mike seemed to want to take Blaine under his wing, after everything that had happened. It wasn’t like Blaine had given him much of a chance to be his friend after the party and all that had ensued, and he’d been flat out avoiding him ever since.  Because Mike  _knew_ , or at least it seemed like he did, and while he didn’t seem like the type of person to push, Blaine couldn’t exactly talk to him honestly about what was going on because it wasn’t his place. None of it was Blaine’s place.

 

The lack of Kurt being his friend at school, however, seemed to open up a spot for Mike to swoop in. Apparently the holiday break had been enough time to distance themselves from the earlier situations, and Mike just started talking to him and hanging around as if nothing had ever happened. It was always something small, not noticeable except for the fact that Blaine knew they hadn’t talked that much previous, so that made it stand out more when it happened. Maybe it was because he was only used to Santana, Kurt, or Brittany standing next to him when he was at his locker.

 

Mike was perceptive, though, and that was something that Blaine had known already. He’d picked up on so much, but Blaine wasn’t sure when he’d started paying attention. However, midway through January, it became very obvious that there wasn’t a point where he  _hadn’t_ been paying attention.

 

“Hey Blaine,” Mike greeted him as they walked down the hall after glee rehearsal had let out. Santana had Cheerios practice, so Blaine was on his own headed for the parking lot. He missed having her as a shield against the gauntlet, he really did, because there weren’t many days that he walked through the halls without someone by his side. “Have a minute?”

 

“Several, probably,” Blaine offered with a shrug, pulling his phone out to check the time even though they’d just gotten out and he had a pretty good idea of what time it was already. “What’s up?”

 

Mike hesitated, hiking his bookbag up further onto his shoulder. “Want to head out to the parking lot or whatever?”

 

Blaine didn’t miss the fact that he was trying to get them out of the school before talking, an attempt that didn’t exactly give a sense of ease about whatever Mike wanted. It was Mike, though, so he had to assume that it wouldn’t be that bad. He nodded, wrapping his scarf around his neck as they headed through the doors and down the stairs out to the lot. Mike seemed unsure about talking even once they were outside, so Blaine gestured to his car. “We can sit?”

 

“Perfect.” Mike made his way over to the passenger side and slid in once Blaine had the doors unlocked. He didn’t plan on them going anywhere, but closed doors meant at least some semblance of privacy that being out in the open didn’t afford. Blaine turned on the engine anyway so they could get some heat going, because sitting in a cold car in a parking lot in the middle of January wasn’t how he’d planned on spending his afternoon.

 

“Not gonna lie, you’re making me a little nervous,” Blaine admitted, folding his arms across his stomach as he looked over at him. “What’s going on?”

 

“I know you’re not actually angry,” Mike said quietly. “At Kurt, I mean. And don’t get mad at me, please, I know you didn’t want me saying anything before and I’m not saying anything now.  Just... I know you’re not actually angry. I don’t get why you’re acting like you are.”

 

“Why do you think I’m not?” Blaine asked carefully, trying to ignore the knot twisting in his stomach.

 

“Because I was there when you were. I remember how you looked when you actually  _were_ angry at him, and how you would come into the locker room and go to town on that punching bag every day.” Mike shifted a little in his seat, turning to look at him. “I can recognize an outlet when I see one. That’s how it is for me with dance. Whenever I get into that headspace, I just need to get it out. Dancing for me, boxing for you, it’s all the same, but the point is you’re not there – you’re not actually upset.”

 

“Mike, I—”

 

“I’ve known Kurt for a long time, and I know he’s not actually upset either. So the question remains: why are you guys acting like this?”

 

“It’s not my place to say,” Blaine said, biting the inside of his lip. It would be so easy, he thought, to tell Mike absolutely everything. He was nice, actually cared, and had that disposition that just made Blaine want to start talking. But he knew better, knew that he couldn’t. “Whether or not Kurt and I are mad at each other, it’s not anyone’s business but ours.”

 

“Well, it kind of is,” Mike pressed. “As someone who is friends with both of you, I worry. It’s not just me, either. Puck’s got it in his head that this is all his fault, and he’s been kicking himself over it for weeks.”

 

That caught Blaine off guard, and he blinked a few times. “Puck?”

 

“He said he said some stuff after the party and then you guys sang that song and he thinks he broke you up or something,” Mike explained, rushing to add, “not trying to imply any kind of… anything, just…”

 

“Oh my God,” Blaine groaned, leaning forward and lightly hitting his forehead on the steering wheel.  His mind was racing, trying to think up excuses, because it would be  _so easy_ just to let it all out and tell him absolutely everything. And  _Puck_ , of all people. It was true that he was the cause of their charade, but Blaine had never expected him to be upset because he thought he’d made them fight. Puck seemed to be a stereotypical McKinley High jock, and especially with what he’d said that had made them spiral into more lies; it was crazy to think that he was  _worried_ about them.

 

“Blaine?”

 

“You said you weren’t going to say anything and then you said  _that_?” Blaine said, tilting his head to look at him but not lifting it off the wheel. He was trying to console himself with the fact that apparently Mike and Puck both knew, but no one else was any wiser about it. Which, considering Puck was one of the two people, was surprising. “Damn, Mike.”

 

“I didn’t mean to,” Mike said, eyes wide. “Honestly, I wasn’t trying to say—I didn’t mean—shit, you make it really difficult, you know that?”

 

“Make  _what_ really difficult?”

 

“Being your friend!”

 

Blaine stared at him, and slowly pulled back, lifting his head up off the steering wheel and biting hard at the inside of his lip. He never really considered what it might be like for anyone on the outside of their little foursome mostly because he didn’t have much time spent with anyone like that. He’d been so focused on Kurt and then Santana and everything, he didn’t bother with anyone else for the most part.

 

“Seriously, Blaine, I just want to be your friend but I feel like no matter what I do I never actually see you.” Mike reached over and prodded at his chest, over his heart. “I know you’re in there somewhere but you have all these walls blocking everyone out, and I don’t doubt that there’s a reason but I don’t think I’ve seen the real you  _ever_. No, that’s a lie, I’m pretty sure I saw the real you when you were drunk.”

 

“Mike, it’s compli—”

 

“I’m sure it is, but constantly being on the defensive doesn’t help people be your friend,” Mike said. “Why do you think your  _girlfriend_  has, like, two whole people who are actually her friends? Santana shuts out everyone and so do you.”

 

“So do I get to talk or are you just going to keep berating me until I kick you out of my car?”

 

“I’m not berating you.”

 

“It’s  _complicated_ , Mike,” Blaine said, his hands moving up to grip the steering wheel. “It’s complicated and it’s not my choice to make who knows what. I consider you my friend, I do, but you have to understand that it’s not up to me.”

 

“Your life, your choice, Blaine.”

 

“It’s not just  _my_ life we’re talking about.”

 

They sat in silence for a long time after that, but Blaine was pretty sure that Mike knew exactly what was going on. He seemed very aware of what was going on with  _everything_ , and that was terrifying and kind of relieving.

 

A sharp rap on his window startled them both, and Blaine glanced out to see Puck standing there, looking inside at them.  _Great_.

 

Not even bothering to roll down the window to see what he wanted, Blaine unlocked the doors and tried to keep from feeling anxious as Puck climbed into the backseat and slid to the middle so he could look up at both of them. Blaine wasn’t sure what to expect, but he glanced back in his rearview mirror to try and figure out what he wanted. For someone who usually just looked ambivalent toward most things going on around him, Puck looked concerned.

 

“Dude, I am  _so_ sorry,” he said, reaching up and clapping a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to break you guys up.  I was just happy that Kurt finally had someone, you know? And I didn’t really know how to say that, I think, so it came out wrong and—”

 

“You guys make a lot of assumptions,” Blaine interrupted, motioning back and forth between the two of them. “You shouldn’t just go around guessing things about people and their orientations or preferences.”

 

“I’m not assuming.” Puck blinked, looking at Mike and then back to Blaine. “When we were in second grade, I tried to get Kurt to help me get Santana to kiss me because I said I wanted to marry her someday and I was like, seven, so I thought that was how you got to be dating or engaged or whatever. And he said he would help me as long as I helped him kiss this kid John, because he wanted to marry him too. I asked which one of them was going to wear the dress and he said there wouldn’t be any frilly dresses, just pretty tuxedos – like a wedding should be.”

 

Blaine had twisted in his seat mid-story so he could look at him better. “Puck…”

 

“I’m not assuming,” he said again, his tone resolute. “Look, I’ve got no problem with Kurt and no problem with you.  I just have a problem with me messing stuff up for you. I like it when my friends are happy, and you guys were and now you’re not.”

 

“I appreciate both your concern,” Blaine started carefully, his gaze flitting between them. “I do, but neither of you are in this situation so you can’t really… speak to it. Kurt and I were  _friends_ , now we’re not, that’s just how it is.” He figured it wasn’t actually a lie – because he and Kurt weren’t friends anymore, they were boyfriends, and that was a clear distinction that he could use to his advantage at that moment.

 

“Give me your phone,” Mike demanded, holding out his hand.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“You said you consider me your friend but you don’t have my number, so hand it over so I can put it in.” Blaine hesitated, but wiggled his phone out of his pocket and passed it over. Puck just shook his head, looking dejected about the whole situation. Out of all the people in glee club, he was probably one of the last ones Blaine would have thought to be okay with it all. Then again, he should have known better than to judge someone based on minimal facts and a lot of first impression.

 

His phone vibrated in Mike’s hand, and his expression went from a furrowed brow of concentration to wide eyes as he looked at the screen. “Shit! That was not on purpose, I was just trying to type in the numbers and the text came through and I accidentally hit the button to read it because it was right over the number I was typing—”

 

Blaine snatched his phone back from Mike and glanced down at it, slight panic starting to take over before his gaze even met the screen. It was from Kurt; of  _course_ it was from Kurt.

 

_I thought you were coming over? My dad’s at the shop until at least seven tonight, so…_

 

“What is it?” Puck asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. Blaine closed out the text and passed the phone back to Mike so he could finish putting in his number.

 

“Sext from Santana,” he lied, not even sure why he was bothering because Mike was  _right there and had seen it_  but maybe it was because the lie made him feel like he had some sort of control? That would have been a fitting explanation, considering that was what all the lies were for that were circling around him. Control. Mike looked up and caught his eye but didn’t say anything, handing the phone back once he was done. “Not to kick you guys out of my car but… can you get out of my car? I have to get home.”

 

“Oh, sure,” Mike said quickly, and immediately reached for the door handle. Blaine didn’t even want to start to speculate what he might be thinking, but at least he wasn’t questioning the lie. “I have to head home anyway.”

 

Puck just gave a hearty smack to Blaine’s chest in farewell before climbing out of the car on the same side as Mike. Once he was alone, he felt as if it was the first time he could draw in a deep breath since he’d gotten out to the parking lot. He stared down at his phone, unsure of exactly what to say, but he knew the truth was more important than trying to avoid the situation at hand.

 

_Sorry, got held up by Mike and Puck. I’ll be over in a few. We have to talk about them._

 

It wasn’t the best attempt to explain anything, mostly because it  _didn’t_ explain anything at all, but Blaine didn’t think that it should have been said over a text when he was going to be there in person soon. When he arrived at the Hummel house, he went straight for the side door, knowing that Kurt kept it unlocked most days when he got home from school, and headed inside, shucking his shoes and coat just inside the door. He’d felt his phone buzzing with texts when he’d been driving, but he didn’t bother looking at it until he was there. Ignoring all the ones from Kurt, he sent one to Mike.

 

_Thanks for not saying anything. I’m sorry for lying – I hate lying. It’s not my story and it’s complicated. I hate to ask you to keep not saying anything, but please? I’m sorry._

 

“What happened?” Kurt asked when he saw him, his eyes wide. Blaine slipped his phone back into his pocket and tugged him in, kissing him for at least one moment of soft, warm, wonderful before the potential landslide of conversation. “Blaine…”

 

“Let’s sit?” He gave him another quick kiss. “It’s okay, or it will be, so don’t be worried.”

 

“You got ambushed by Mike and Puck and said we have to talk about them and I’m not supposed to find that unsettling?” Kurt asked as he took his hand and led him into the living room. Once they were both sitting on the couch, he asked, “What happened?”

 

Blaine kept hold of his hand and rubbed light circles over the back of it with his thumb as he recalled everything that had been said in his car. He tried his hardest to recite the conversations verbatim,  and tried to ignore the slight tensing of Kurt’s hand in his. Kurt almost laughed when he recalled what Puck had said about them in second grade, and Blaine was glad for the brief moment of levity amongst the tension. But then they descended right back into it when he brought up what had happened with Kurt’s text.

 

“Mike didn’t say anything though?” Kurt squeezed his hand, eyes searching his as if trying to make sure he’d been telling the truth.

 

“No he didn’t, and I texted him once I got here, but I don’t think he’ll say anything,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I just wanted you to know that they’re… thinking about us.” He paused, pressing a kiss against Kurt’s cheek. “This isn’t all bad, right? I mean, at least just in terms of us because you said you wanted…”

 

“…to come out,” Kurt finished quietly, pursing his lips. “No, you’re right. It’s not all bad, just complicated.”

 

“Just complicated,” Blaine repeated, nodding and giving his hand a squeeze. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine, I am,” Kurt said, leaning over and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’ll talk to Mike later, sort of set the record straight as best I can without spilling everything out. Sorry you kind of got stuck with all that and them and everything.” Blaine shook his head, shrugging. He didn’t care; it was just that he never knew what to say. “But we have a bunch of hours until my dad comes home, so I think we should go someplace more comfortable, like my room, and see what happens.”

 

It truly was a testament to how far Kurt had come that he was shrugging off a potential threat to his secrets and practically had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked over at Blaine. Months earlier, there was no way that ever would have happened. So Blaine got up from the couch, offering him his other hand to help him up, and tugged him toward the stairs. If Kurt wasn’t worried, then neither was he.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Kurt talked to Mike the next day after school, just like he said he would, and he became the first person at school that  _knew_. He might have known already, though not with any kind of actual confirmation, but that didn’t change the importance of the actual conversation. Blaine hadn’t been witness to any of it, but Kurt had come over afterward and had been practically  _shaking_  when he came into the house.

 

He’d managed to tell Mike everything while still keeping Brittany and Santana out of it, and Mike hadn’t questioned any of it. He hadn’t said he knew already, hadn’t said anything that wasn’t supportive, and had just hugged Kurt tight and thanked him for telling him, told him that he was glad he had Blaine. Kurt hadn’t really expected it to go badly, because it was  _Mike_  after all, but the fact was that he had  _told someone_  and he had come away completely unscathed.

 

Blaine’s mom made them hot chocolate and they stayed curled up on the couch together until Kurt had to go home for dinner – he had been invited to stay but he knew his dad was expecting him home. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t stayed because mid-way through dinner there was a knock on the front door, followed by the doorbell ringing, and then a knock again. His dad answered it, but immediately called out for Blaine once he’d opened the door.

 

He barely made it out of the dining room before Santana threw herself at him, clinging on tightly and burying her face against the crook of his neck. His collar was getting wet, he realized, and that was what alerted him to the fact that she was crying. The shock of her being there and practically slamming into him on sight had kept him from noticing before. “Hey… hey now. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.” His dad raised an eyebrow at him, but Blaine just shook his head. “Let’s sit, alright? Then you can tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Okay,” Santana whispered, but she grabbed onto his arm once he started to guide her into the den. Her gaze flitted to his dad, who was still lingering outside the dining room, and then back to Blaine. “Upstairs?”

 

“Sure,” he agreed, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to his room. Santana was trembling, and Blaine realized that she wasn’t wearing a coat or anything particularly suitable for being out in the January cold. She was wearing shorts, flip flops, and his Dalton sweatshirt that she’d kept after she’d been over on that snowy afternoon. As soon as they got into his room, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and held them out to her, watching her as she slipped them on over her shorts. “San?”

 

“I fucked up,” she said, her voice wavering. She crawled up onto his bed and shoved her legs underneath the covers, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweatshirt before hugging a pillow to her chest. “Can I stay here? With you?”

 

“What?” Blaine blinked, watching her bury her face against the pillow and tighten her arms around it. He sat on the edge of the bed, right beside her, and tried to brush her hair back from her face. “Santana, what happened? It’ll be okay, whatever it is, just tell me. We’ll figure it out.”

 

“I forgot… tonight was family dinner night and I was supposed to help my Abuela and I  _forgot_.” She was muffled against the pillow, and Blaine still couldn’t quite figure out why she was there with him instead of with Brittany, who seemed like the more obvious choice for comfort.

 

“Okay…”

 

“I thought we had time, my parents weren’t supposed to be home until later, I mean, that’s why I was supposed to help in the first place,” she rambled on, the occasional hiccup interrupting her words. “She came up to my room to find me and—this is  _all my fault_.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Blaine tried, though he honestly had no idea if it was or wasn’t. He shifted over to sit beside her, with his back against the headboard, and circled his arm around her shoulders.

 

“She  _saw_ us,” Santana said, each word emphasized as she lifted her head from the pillow to look at him, eyes red and puffy and tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Me and Brittany, she saw us.”

 

Blaine felt his stomach twist into knots as the realization hit him – what she was saying. He hadn’t known for sure if Santana’s family knew about her, but that gave him an answer. “Maybe… you could play it off like you’d been doing something else? I mean—”

 

“If your parents walked into your room while you had Kurt’s dick in your mouth, could you play that off like you were doing something else?” she snapped, arms clenching tighter around the pillow. “Kind of definitive, don’t you think?”

 

A throat being cleared drew their attention to the doorway of his room, where his mom was standing. Her cheeks were slightly tinted pink, which Blaine could only assume meant that she’d heard, well, at least the last few sentences Santana had spat out at him. Santana just buried her face against the pillow again and let out a very muffled yell of frustration.

 

“I was just coming to see if I could get either of you anything,” his mom said, her brow furrowing as she watched Santana. “Dinner? Hot chocolate?”

 

“A time machine,” Santana mumbled, just loud enough that Blaine could hear it but his mom couldn’t.

 

“I think we’re good for right now,” Blaine answered, shaking his head. She lingered in the doorway, giving him a look before turning to leave and pulling his door most of the way shut behind her. He rubbed Santana’s back, turning his attention back to her. “So what happened?”

 

“She just went  _off_ ,” Santana said, swallowing hard as she lifted her head up and rested her chin on top of the pillow. “She started  _tearing_ into Brittany and barely gave her a chance to get dressed before she threw her out, and then she started in on me and pretty much dragged me out.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of her, and that made Blaine feel more sick to his stomach than anything else had. “Told me what a disgrace I was and that she was going to tell my parents. Said she didn’t have a granddaughter anymore.”

 

“San…” Blaine wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close as her laughter turned into sobs and she practically crumpled into his hold. There was so little he could do to help, to comfort, and he felt kind of useless, but he just kept her pulled in against him and ran his hand along her back in broad strokes. She cried against his shoulder, body shaking and every breath in sounding like a gasp for air.

 

“B-Brittany, she looked so hurt and s-scared,” she whimpered, her hand sliding to his chest and fisting into the fabric of his shirt – and it was shocking that she didn’t manage to rip it with how tight she was doing it. “What if she hates me now? This is my fault.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blaine murmured, pressing a kiss against her hair. “Brittany loves you. There’s no way even something like this could have possibly made her stop loving you. This is a speed bump, that’s all. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“You don’t know that it’s not, either,” he countered, but at least she seemed to be calming down a little. Her breathing was steadier, less frantic, and it seemed like her tears were subsiding. “I’ll ask my mom if you can stay, if you still want, but… she’s probably going to want to know why.”

 

“It really doesn’t fucking matter anymore.” Santana slowly loosened her hold on his shirt and scooted down so she was almost completely buried under the covers, curling on her side and hugging a pillow to her chest. The occasional sniffle was the only sign that she was still awake, as the minutes passed, and Blaine stayed sitting there beside her.

 

Part of him wanted to call Brittany, but he knew that wasn’t his place. None of it was his place, really, but there they were anyway. So he sat, letting Santana press her back against the side of his leg as she lay unmoving beside him on the bed, and tried to think of what he was going to say to his parents. He was glad they knew, that he’d told them everything because otherwise it would require more explanation than he thought he’d be able to give at that particular time.

 

“I’ll be back,” he said quietly, leaning down and hugging her gently before moving off the bed and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. He padded down the stairs and headed for the dining room, and found his parents talking in hushed tones.

 

“What’s going on?” his mom asked when she saw him standing in the doorway. “What happened?”

 

“Can she stay here tonight? She had a rough afternoon, and—”

 

“Blaine.” His dad’s voice cut him off sharply, and he knew he really hadn’t stood much of a chance to avoid explanation, but it had been worth a shot.

 

“Her grandma found out about her and Brittany and threw them both out of the house and said some really awful things,” he said, biting his lip. “So can she stay?”

 

“Do her parents know where she is?” his mom asked, rising up out of her chair and smoothing down her skirt as she looked over at him.

 

“No, they weren’t getting home from work until late and by that time it had already happened…” he trailed off as his mom brushed past him, heading for the stairs without another word. He wavered in the doorway, unsure of whether he was supposed to stay or follow, but headed up the stairs behind her after a few seconds. She held out her hand to stop him from coming in after her when she went into his room, but the door stayed open a little so he could see inside.

 

His mom sat on the edge of the bed next to Santana, and she was speaking quietly enough that Blaine couldn’t hear anything that she was saying. He could see that Santana was nodding occasionally, though she did shake her head once or twice, and he pulled out his phone to send a text to Kurt and let him know what had happened. Maybe he’d be able to check on Brittany, make sure she was okay. He was busy staring at his phone, typing out the last bit of the message, when the door opened the rest of the way and his mom came back out.

 

“I’m going to call her parents, see what exactly is going on,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder into the room before looking back to him. “If I can get them to come over, I will, and of course she’s welcome to stay if necessary but hopefully it won’t be. Now come help me clear up from dinner, give her a few minutes of quiet.”

 

Blaine complied, clearing off the table in the dining room and rinsing all the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. He considered taking some food up for Santana, but she’d said she didn’t want anything and he couldn’t imagine that she had much of an appetite. His parents were back to talking just quietly enough that he couldn’t hear what they were saying, though he had heard his mom on the phone to what he assumed was one of Santana’s parents.

 

He lingered in the kitchen until the doorbell rang and his mom told him to go upstairs. Her jaw was set, and his dad looked resolute, and he was really glad that they were on his side because he couldn’t imagine going up against them about anything important. They were reasonable, but could be intense when it came to what they believed in. He really hoped that Santana’s parents were good, that there weren’t going to be problems, but if her grandmother was anything to go by then he was concerned.

 

Santana was lying flat on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, when he went back into his room. She barely acknowledged that he came in, but her gaze flickered over in his direction when he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to her. He’d never seen her look like that before, so unraveled and broken and  _small_. She looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t come up with the words, so he just held his arms open and she rolled up against him, pillowing her head against his chest and clutching her arm tight around his waist.

 

They stayed there like that long enough that Blaine almost fell asleep, and he was half-certain that Santana actually had. It wasn’t until there were footsteps on the stairs and coming down the hall that Santana proved she wasn’t asleep, because her fingers knotted into the fabric of his shirt and she drew in a sharp breath. That woke him up enough to be aware of the door to his room opening, and he opened his eyes to look over.

 

The woman standing there had to be Santana’s mother – clearly, because it wasn’t his mom and he’d never seen her before, but also because they had such similar features. Blaine tried to shift away from Santana, but the grip she had wouldn’t let him. She wasn’t even looking over toward the door, if her eyes were open at all. It felt so very awkward to be lying there with her practically curled around him while her mother crossed the distance in the room and stood by the bed.

 

“Santana, let go of him,” she said, and her voice was softer than Blaine had been expecting. Maybe it was because he was used to the usual sharpness of Santana’s. “I want to talk to you.”

 

Slowly but surely, Santana’s grip on his shirt loosened and she lifted her arm enough that he could wriggle out from under it. He got to his feet and offered Mrs. Lopez a hint of a smile before heading for the door, though he was torn between giving them complete privacy and hanging around outside in case Santana needed some support. In a slight compromise, he sat against the wall a few feet away, close enough to be near but far enough to not hear anything.

 

His phone started buzzing with texts from Kurt, a delayed response after being with his dad for dinner and whatever else they’d been doing. There were a lot of panicked questions, then swearing, then the calmer responses of having talked to Brittany and finding out that she was okay. Upset, but okay. She was far more concerned about Santana and how she was doing since she’d been calling and texting her nonstop with no answer – but Blaine hadn’t heard any phone but his own the entire time she’d been there.

 

He got so caught up in texting back to Kurt that he didn’t even know how much time had gone by before the door to his room opened and Santana stepped out. She fidgeted with the waistband of his sweatpants she was wearing, looking down at the floor as Blaine got up and took the few steps to get over to her. Mrs. Lopez appeared behind her in the doorframe, her hand resting on the small of Santana’s back to get her to move out of the way. She disappeared down the stairs and left the two of them standing there, and Santana still didn’t look up.

 

“Is it—are you—okay?”

 

“My mom, she’s good,” Santana said softly, folding her arms across her stomach and hugging in on herself. “Dad is on board with my Abuela, which made my mom get super upset. The women in my family kind of have tempers, though I’m sure you never would have guessed that.” Her gaze moved up to meet his, and he bit back a small grin. The fact that she was teasing, even just a little, was good, despite the fact that nothing about the situation merited a smile. “They fought and she told him to get out until he got over his ignorance.”

 

“Oh… wow. Santana, that’s…”

 

“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging and pushing her hair back out of her face. “Well no, it’s not, but I have my mom and she won’t put up with that kind of shit, so it could be worse.”

 

“Kurt said that Brittany’s okay,” he offered, touching her arm lightly. “She’s worried about you more than anything. It’s… rough, but you’re right, you have your mom. You have Brittany, me, Kurt, my parents – you’re far from alone in this.”

 

“You know the really funny part?” Santana asked, tilting her head as she looked at him. “I was thinking about telling them. I was trying to work myself up to it, I really was. I don’t know what’s worse - how my Abuela reacted or how my dad would have, but I guess I’ll never know.”

 

“Santana,” Mrs. Lopez called up the stairs. “Time to go.”

 

“Call Brittany,” Blaine said, walking over to the stairs and heading down with her. “Kurt said she kept trying to reach you.”

 

“I don’t have my phone,” she said, hands automatically searching for pockets that weren’t there anyway. “I’ll find it when I get home.”

 

Both their mothers were standing side by side near the front door, and Mrs. Lopez’s unwavering stare made Blaine feel like he was under heavy scrutiny. He slowed his pace and hung slightly back from Santana, unsure of what to do or say.

 

“So you’re the boy my Santana has been pretending to date for months now,” she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

 

“Oh, um, yes,” Blaine replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “That would be me.”

 

“Well Santana, even if you are a lesbian, you still have good taste in men,” she directed to her daughter, before pulling her keys out of her pocket and heading out the door. His mom covered her mouth with her hand, presumably to keep from laughing. Santana rolled her eyes and gave Blaine a tight hug, and then did the same to his mom, before disappearing out into the dark evening.

 

“Come here,” his mom said, reaching out her arms for him and pulling him into a hug. “I just need to do this for a minute, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

By the time Blaine went to bed that night, he’d spent hours on the phone back and forth between Kurt and Brittany – though mostly Kurt. Santana  _had_ called Brittany, but apparently hadn’t been able to say much more than that she was okay and she wasn’t going to go to school the next day or so, but would probably be back before the end of the week. He knew she was putting on a braver face than she actually felt, because hadn’t that been one of her worst fears about coming out? She’d said she’d been thinking about doing it before that afternoon had happened, so at least there was that progress – he just didn’t know how many steps she’d taken backwards thanks to two-thirds of her family.

 

***

 

School without Santana was strange – it made Blaine realize that she hadn’t missed a single day that year, because he wasn’t used to going without her popping up at his locker at various points of the day. Strange how a daily schedule could be so influenced by someone’s presence. He stole Brittany away from Kurt for lunch, because despite the fact that she said she was okay, she’d been looking pouty every time he’d passed her in the halls.

 

“I told my mom,” Brittany said with a shrug as she popped a french fry into her mouth, sitting in his car out in the parking lot. “Well, she was home when I got back from Santana’s and she wanted to know why I was upset, and I figured… with how Santana’s grandma was yelling about it, half of Lima probably heard anyway.”

 

“And?”

 

“Oh, she’s fine.” Honestly, even though Blaine had never met her, he would have been shocked if Brittany’s mom was anything less than easygoing. He was basing that on how Brittany was, and he figured her family must be sweet and very patient, but even still he was glad to hear it from her. “She said she already knew.”

 

“She already knew?” Blaine raised an eyebrow as he took in the last few bites of his sandwich.

 

“Mhm. She said we woke her up one time when we were having a sleepover and that we weren’t nearly as sneaky or quiet as we thought we were.” Brittany giggled, biting her lip. “I mean, I didn’t think she would have a problem with it, but after the whole thing… I wasn’t sure, you know?”

 

“Yeah. She sounds great, I’m really happy for you, Brit.”

 

“I just feel bad because of Santana,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Is it bad that I’m sad I won’t get to have yummy food from her grandma anymore? Because she made really yummy stuff and always treated me like I was part of the family, but I guess that only counted if I wasn’t trying to be a real part of it.”

 

“No, it’s okay to be sad,” Blaine replied, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “I know Santana’s sad about that too.”

 

“It’s okay though, because I have Santana,” Brittany said resolutely. “And we can go get yummy food from somewhere else.”

 

That said it all. She seemed content to go right back to her french fries and hum along with the radio, no more words spoken about the absence of Santana or what was going on with her family.

 

When Santana did come back to school, feigning that she had gotten a cold and seriously facing some wrath from Coach Sylvester for daring to be sick, she acted like nothing had happened. It wasn’t as though they had expected her to, but she seemed completely unphased. She didn’t hold Blaine’s hand any tighter as they walked down the halls, didn’t press for more physicality in any way, just seemed normal and fine. Maybe having a few days to herself had been the best thing for her.

 

It didn’t really seem like much was different, until it became obvious that it was.

  
It happened one afternoon the following week when Kurt was over, stretched out on Blaine’s bed and reading through a book for his literature class. Even when they were both working on separate homework, it was still nice to be there together. It meant that they could take breaks – usually long, kiss filled breaks. Maybe it wasn’t the most productive way to study or do homework, but it definitely was the nicest.

 

Blaine’s cell rang and he ignored his history essay to answer it, seeing Santana’s name on the screen.

 

“Listen Baggins, we need to talk.” Santana didn’t even give him a chance to say hello before she started in. “There’s a Valentine’s dance coming up.”

 

“Oh right, I’ve seen the posters around school,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face with his free hand. “How fancy is this thing? Are we talking suit? Tux? What color is your dress?”

 

“I don’t wear those to dances so I really don’t know,” Santana drawled. “And red.” She hadn’t given him much help when they’d gone to Homecoming together, either, beyond telling him what colors not to wear because they would clash with her dress. “Is Kurt there?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just put the damn phone on speaker.” Blaine did as she asked, mouthing ‘Santana’ at Kurt and pointing down at it. “Did you?”

 

“Yes, now what is it?”

 

“I want to go to the dance with Brittany,” Santana said, and that made Kurt shut his book and scoot closer to the phone. Blaine stared down at it, not really sure he was trusting the implication of her words. “It’s just so stupid, after everything, and I really don’t think anyone in that school could hold a candle to my Abuela and dad in terms of making me feel like shit. I’m tired of fighting, I’m  _so_ tired of fighting, and I just want to be able to be me and dance with my girlfriend.”

 

“That’s great, Santana,” Kurt spoke up, looking over at Blaine.

 

“Yeah, except it isn’t just me,” she replied, and there was a slight waver in her voice. “Because that’s not fair. I dragged Blaine into this and you have Brittany, so it’s about you guys too.”

 

“I want you to go with Brittany, if that’s what you want,” Kurt said. Blaine reached over to take his hand, squeezing it. “I mean, it seems like a total consolation prize considering how great a dancer Brittany is, but I guess I can go with Blaine.”

 

“Hey, I’m a good dancer!” Blaine objected, sticking his tongue out at him.

 

“Don’t expect anything great, Kurt, he didn’t even try to feel me up when we were at Homecoming,” Santana offered, and Blaine rolled his eyes. She hesitated. “Are you… sure? I mean, I know I don’t always give a shit about other people but this is kind of a big deal for everyone and I don’t want to be  _that_  person.”

 

“I’m sure,” Kurt said, lacing their fingers together and leaning down to press a kiss against Blaine’s hand. “I am very sure, Santana.”

 

“Okay. Well, I mean, I’m not going to say anything before then because I figure that won’t give people a chance to plan their outrage. I don’t care if it’s a bit dramatic or whatever, I’m just going to show up to the dance with her and let people figure it out from there.”

 

“Perfect,” Blaine said, trying to ignore the way his stomach was twisting into knots. This was good, it was really good, but anxiety was starting to creep in anyway.

 

“Sweet. I’ll see you pretty boys tomorrow.” Silence filled the line and Blaine put his phone back on his desk next to his books. His mind was racing and the only thing really keeping him grounded was Kurt’s hand in his.

 

“What is it?” Kurt asked, reaching out to cup his other hand against Blaine’s face and turning it so he would look at him. “Blaine?”

 

“Nothing, just… school dance,” Blaine answered, shaking his head. He’d gotten so caught up in the moment of Santana wanting to come out, the thought that finally he could be with Kurt like he’d wanted to be, like Kurt wanted them to be, that it had taken a few extra seconds for reality to set in.  Kurt stared at him until he got to the right realization.

 

“Oh.  _Oh_. Blaine, we don’t have to go.” Kurt tugged him out of his chair and up to sit on the bed, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his lips. “We don’t.”

 

“I  _want_ to,” Blaine said, and he meant it. He so very much wanted to go with Kurt, dance with him, screw everyone else and what they thought. It was just a matter of getting the rest of him to agree. He knew his involuntary response of fear when it came to school dances wasn’t irrational but he also knew that not everything was the same. Sure, he’d gone to Homecoming and it had been fine, but he’d been there with Santana. McKinley didn’t exactly overwhelm him with feelings of safety. “I’ll talk to Miss Pillsbury.”

 

“What?”

 

“It makes sense, right? I’ll talk to her and tell her what happened to me before, and then maybe they’ll be more aware at the dance? My parents will probably demand to be chaperones or something, but there’s no way I’m not going to go with you.” Blaine pulled him in and kissed him deeply, pushing all his fear and anxiety into an outpouring of emotion to Kurt. Words were difficult sometimes, but he wanted him to know that there was no way he was backing down or trying to run. Kurt had dealt with the people at that school for years – Blaine could handle them for a night and the months beyond.

 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Talking to Miss Pillsbury ended up being a good idea, because she said they would definitely make sure there were more chaperones and that they were all aware of the potential of problems. She seemed uncomfortable with the idea that there would be students who might do such a thing, but it was the same unease that she’d shown the first time Blaine spoke with her about the bullying that was going unnoticed. It had been a quick conversation, because Blaine didn’t like dwelling on what happened, but at least one that had gone somewhere.

 

The Valentine’s Dance wasn’t exactly on the same level of formality as Prom, but that wasn’t about to stop Kurt from making it seem that way. Brittany and Santana had dresses that were probably a bit too fancy, considering, but they didn’t care. Kurt demanded that tuxedos were in order, and Blaine figured if they were going to go, they might as well make it count. Besides, he wasn’t about to say no to getting to see Kurt in a tux.

 

Blaine’s parents had demanded to take lots of pictures before the dance, and before they had to be there because they were chaperoning. Any nerves or concerns Blaine had been feeling were mostly quelled by knowing that his parents would be there – though it was also inconvenient because he didn’t really want them watching him the entire time. His mom had assured him that they would keep themselves busy staying away from him unless there was a problem. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her, but he wanted to.

 

Kurt came over early, and Blaine had barely finished putting on his tuxedo before he heard the doorbell ring. One of his parents must have let him in, because it was only moments later that Kurt appeared in the doorway to his room and Blaine nearly dropped the cufflink he was holding. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to just how breathtaking – and that was a term he’d never fully understood until he realized just how much his breath was constantly taken away by his boyfriend – Kurt was, but especially there in that moment, in those clothes that had to be tailored because there was no way a standard, off the rack suit could possibly pinch in and fit him so perfectly.

 

Words failed him, and Blaine just reached out for him, motioning for him to come in closer. Kurt closed the distance between them and Blaine snaked his arm around his waist, pulling him in to kiss. It was sensory overload:  the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips, the feeling of Kurt’s tongue and teeth against his lips, and the sweet and perfect smell of whatever cologne he was wearing. The cologne was what made Blaine pull his mouth away so he could nuzzle against his neck to get closer to the scent of it all, his lips brushing against Kurt’s skin.

 

“You look amazing,” he murmured, mouthing his way up his neck and nipping at his jaw. “So gorgeous, Kurt.” He tilted his head back to look up at him, taking in how his hair was swooped up and styled like it had been the first day they’d met – he hadn’t really seen it like that since arriving at McKinley. “I think we should skip the dance and just stay here…”

 

“Blaine Anderson,” Kurt admonished, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do you know how much time it took to get like this? This took  _effort._ I’m not about to let you undo it all without showing me off first.”

 

“You’re no fun sometimes,” Blaine sighed. “And also unfair, because you show up looking like that and expect me to be able to not take off all your perfect clothes on sight.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Kurt said, dipping his head down to kiss him again before pulling back and taking the cufflink from his hand to put it on for him. Blaine stood still as Kurt’s gaze swept over him and his hands followed suit, smoothing over the fabric of Blaine’s jacket before carefully pushing it back off his shoulders and putting it on a hanger. He did the same with his own, and glanced back over his shoulder at Blaine as he put them in the closet. “What time are the girls getting here?”

 

“In… ten minutes,” Blaine replied, after checking the clock on his bedside table. He tilted his head as he watched Kurt, who was taking off his shoes by the door. “You’re aware my parents are just downstairs, right? I was teasing about taking off all your clothes. At least for now.”

 

“Of course I knew you were teasing, but that doesn’t mean I want to get our jackets wrinkled.” Kurt nudged Blaine back toward the bed and crowded into his space, his fingers splaying against Blaine’s back as he held him in close, pressing up against him and licking his way into his mouth. Blaine slipped his arms up around his neck, lips parting beneath insistent swipes of Kurt’s tongue.

 

It was really difficult to think about having to leave his room, with Kurt kissing him like that - deep and full of longing.  Blaine just wanted to forget that his parents were in the house and hang up the rest of their clothes with their jackets and ignore whenever the doorbell rang to let them know their friends were there. Kurt seemed to have enough restraint to keep that from happening, because he pulled back and kept his arms looped around Blaine’s waist and their foreheads pressed together. They swayed together, almost like dancing without music, but Blaine easily fixed that by humming.

 

“Are you scared?” Kurt asked quietly, his hand running up the middle of Blaine’s back and fingertips brushing against the hair at the nape of his neck. When Blaine didn’t respond immediately, he added, “I’m nervous.”

 

“I am a little,” Blaine replied, biting his lip. “It’ll be okay though. It’s a different situation; I know that, it’s just getting my head to shut off.”

 

“I get that,” Kurt said with a nod. He stared down at him, eyes searching, and then took a breath. “I want to tell you something.”

 

“Anything.” Blaine took a small step back to put a bit of distance between them, so he could look at him properly. 

 

“I love you.”  Kurt said it simply, but the words themselves were far from simple. They were the words that Blaine had been holding in for months, unsure of how they would be received if he ever dared to speak them. After months of an ambiguous relationship that was full of physicality and words but none that would define, even after establishing that they were a  _them,_ he still wasn’t sure of how to say how he felt. Except Kurt just had.

 

“I know it seems stupid to say right now because it’s Valentine’s and all that and I really should have planned that better but—” Blaine leaned in and kissed him, cutting him off for a few seconds, “—I couldn’t wait any longer.”

 

“It doesn’t seem stupid, it’s perfect,” Blaine said, cupping Kurt’s face in his hands and rubbing his thumbs against his blush-tinted cheeks. “It’s perfect and I love you.” Kurt’s fingers tightened in the back of Blaine’s shirt and a smile broke across his face, eyes shining as he leaned in to kiss him. The three words were passed back and forth through murmurs and soft kisses until the doorbell rang.

 

The arrival of Brittany and Santana made them don their jackets and slip on their shoes, because pictures were being demanded of them by parents. Burt had to work, which meant that Kurt was the only one of them without a parent present to fawn over them – but it hardly mattered because all the mothers were doing a fine enough job to make up for his absence, and Blaine’s mom had promised him pictures.

 

Mrs. Pierce was almost exactly like Blaine would have imagined, except slightly more aware and coherent. He didn’t entirely know what he had been expecting from Brittany’s mom, but he could definitely see both why Brittany was the way she was and also how there had been no issues when Brittany had told her about what happened at Santana’s house. It was reassuring to know that she had good support at home, just like the rest of them did.

 

Santana’s dress was red, like she had said, and clung to her in a way that made Blaine wonder how she’d managed to get into it without being sewn in. Brittany’s was pink, much more flowing and whimsical, though she had a headband with a little red top hat on it that matched Santana’s dress perfectly. He and Kurt hadn’t coordinated anything beyond boutonnieres, but it wasn’t really that big a deal when it came to suits and tuxedos.  Blaine was fairly certain their group would be the best dressed out of the entire school, and that shouldn’t have surprised anyone.

 

Pictures were taken on the stairs, and then outside the house on the porch. It was still winter, still cold, though there wasn’t much snow left. There were plenty of pictures taken after Blaine and Kurt had given up their coats to the girls to try and help them keep warm, and all the mothers seemed to think it was the cutest thing ever – Blaine pointed out that it was practical and an attempt to be nice but apparently they were being adorable, according to his mom.

 

Finally they managed to leave, and they split into two cars to head to dinner. It felt so strange to be alone in a car with Kurt, as silly as that was. They always drove places separately, or before the whole pretending-to-dislike-each-other stint, they had always had either Brittany or Santana with them. Even more than that, they were driving to go have dinner together, and then go to a school dance together. It was a completely surreal moment.

 

Breadstix was busy, but Kurt had made them a reservation. They crowded into a booth and pored over the menus, even though they all pretty much had it memorized. It was a mystery how Santana managed to eat anything at all given the tightness of her dress, but they all ate and kept from spilling anything on themselves. Blaine just ordered a salad, not sure if the nerves in his stomach could handle much more than that – though of course he ordered dessert because the cheesecake was delicious and he couldn’t  _not_ get a piece when given the opportunity.

 

The school parking lot was full, a sign of all the people waiting inside underneath balloons and streamers and heart decorations. Parking at the far end wasn’t much of a hardship, though it did afford Kurt and Blaine the opportunity to walk the full distance of the lot hand in hand, steeling themselves for going inside. Santana had managed to find a spot closer – or maybe she had made her own spot because she didn’t want to walk that far – but she was waiting for them, pinky finger linked with Brittany’s.

 

Santana slipped her arm through his free one, holding onto it tightly as they walked together up the stairs toward the door. The music could be heard from outside and so could the noise of everyone in there. They stopped just outside, taking in the moment of what was about to happen. It was just a high school dance, and not even one of the big, ‘important’ ones, but it was so much more than that. Brittany was the one who reached for the door, and she glanced back over her shoulder to offer them all a smile as she tugged it open.

 

“Courage.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta (dahlstrom) and cheerleader (pureklaination). Title taken from the song "Control" by Poe.   
> Written for the Blaine Big Bang.


End file.
